"'Tis here—her name—'tis—C-o-n-s—"
"Constance, by God! but there thy lisping tongue prattles ill, for she loves me as a brother, and I love her as if she were my sister." Now the gipsy drew back as if the man before her had stricken her, then hastened to cover her emotion with a sudden look into the cup and an exclamation of—
"Ah! ah!"
"What seest thou?" said Cedric.
"A thing that means more to thee than aught else; 'tis an awful thing if thou shouldst choose wrong!"
"Haste, wench, what is it?" Cedric was growing impatient.
"Thy kinswoman will bring thee a fine heir—"
"By God, the other will bring me a dozen then!"
"Nay, 'tis not so, she—" She stepped close to his ear and whispered.
"Thousand devils, thou infernal, lying pot-house brawler—" and Cedric glared fiercely upon her and bent forward, his hand falling upon his sword-hilt; then he grew red at his hot action, and looked about to see if 'twas noticed. "Get thee gone, thou saucy, lisping minx." The poor thing was well-nigh distraught with fear of this man whose anger came like a thunderbolt, and she fell heavy upon the lackey who conducted her forth. She slipped through the corridors like a fast fleeting shadow, and Janet followed her close and saw her enter a certain chamber apart where she was met by one of the dancers; and 'twas Lady Constance that threw from her the gipsy attire and put a bag of gold in the celebrated Babbet's waiting fingers; and with a warning pressure of finger-on-lip, she came forth and fled to her own grand apartments, and Janet watched until the latch clicked upon this great mistress of beauty, title, wealth and virtue.