Our trio then sauntered forth to see the fair.  Wandering among the crowded booths, they came suddenly on a collection of Zingare, looking like their Spanish cousins, the Gitanas.  Wild black eyes, coarse black locks of hair, brown as Indians, small hands, small feet—­the Gipsies, children of the storm—­my Rommani pals, what are you doing here?  Only one woman among them was noticeable.  Her face was startlingly handsome, with an aquiline nose, thin nostrils, beautifully-arched eyebrows, and eyes like an eagle.  She was tall, straight, with exquisitely-rounded figure, and the full drapery of white around her bosom fell from the shoulders in large hanging sleeves; over her head was thrown a crimson and green shawl, folded like the pane of the ciociare, and setting off her raven-black hair and rich red and swarthy complexion.

Roejean stood entranced, and Caper, noticing his rapt air, forbore breaking silence; while the gipsy, who knew that she was the admiration of the forestieri, stood immovable as a statue, looking steadily at them, without changing a feature.

‘Piu bellisima che la madonna!’ said Roejean, loud enough for her to hear.  Then turning to Caper, ‘Let’s andiammo,’ (travel,) said he, ’that woman’s face will haunt me for a month.  I’ve seen it before; yes, seen her shut up in the Vatican, immortal on an old Etruscan vase.  Egypt, Etruria, the Saracen hordes who once overrun all this Southern Italy, I find, every hour, among live people, some trace of you all; but of the old Roman, nothing!’

’You find the old Roman cropping out in these church processions, festivals, shrines, and superstitions, don’t you?’ asked Caper.

’No! something of those who made the seal, nothing of the impression on the wax remains for me.  Before Rome was, the great East was, and shall be.  The Germans are right to call the East the Morning-Land; thence came light....  The longer you live along the wave-washed shore of the Mediterranean, the more you will see what a deep hold the East once had on the people of the coast.  The Romans, after all, were only opulent tradesmen, who could buy luxuries without having the education to appreciate them.  So utterly did they ignore the Etruscans, who made them what they were, that you seek in vain to find in Roman history any thing but the barest outline of the origin of a people so graceful and refined that the Roman citizen was a boot-black in comparison to one of them.  The Saracens flashed light and life, in later days, once more into the Roman leaven.  What a dirty, filthy page the whole Gothic middle-age is at best!  It lies like a huge body struck with apoplexy, and only restored to its sensual life by the sharp lancet, bringing blood, of these same infidels, these stinging Saracens.  Go into the mountains back of us, hunt up the costumes that still remain, and see where they all come from—­the East.  Look at the crescent earrings and graceful twisted gold-work, from—­the East.  All the commonest household ware, the agricultural implements, the manner of cooking their food, and all that is picturesque in life and religion—­all from the East.’