Hermia made a pretty courtesy and laughed.
"Unfortunately—Monsieur is mistaken," she said easily. "I am not a teller of fortunes. But what does it matter since Monsieur's fortune is so plainly written upon his face."
"And what is that?"
"The fortune of the fortunate. Bien sûr. The bon Dieu cared well for those who rode in automobiles."
The Frenchman smiled and glanced at Markham, who was busying himself with the donkey's pack.
"Mademoiselle is very blonde for a tsigane," he ventured again.
"I come from the North country," said Hermia promptly.
The Frenchman's eyes which had never left her face wore a curious expression.
"It is strange," he said, "but somewhere I have seen your face before."
"That is where I am accustomed to wear it, Monsieur," she said quickly.