But not a muscle of his countenance moved; and he sat smoking his pipe as coolly as if he had heard nothing capable of exciting him. Nevertheless, within him there were emotions of the most fiendish triumph—of the most hellish delight; for his victim was near—and the hour of vengeance approached.
Then it struck him that his purpose might be defeated, were the Rattlesnake, who had evidently made friends of the gipsies, to meet him in their presence. But he recollected that the women were stated to have already retired to rest; and he felt more easy on this head. Again, he asked himself how he was to discover the room in which she slept;—and to this question all his ingenuity could answer nothing more than that he must trust to circumstances.
And accident did serve his infernal purposes even in this respect.
The gipsies, not dreaming that their conversation could have any ulterior interest to him, continued it upon the same topic.
"Poor Meg is terribly put out because she has lost all her companions up stairs," continued Skilligalee. "She couldn't bear the idea of sleeping all alone in the great room just over this."
"Then she should get married, and have a husband to take care of her," said the Resurrection Man, with a coarse laugh;—but his remark was merely for the purpose of clearing up a doubt.
"And so she has some one to take care of her," cried Skilligalee; "and that's me. But there's one rule in this place—men sleep in their rooms, and women in theirs."
"We can't split the palace into a hundred different bed-chambers," observed Zingary.
"Certainly not," said the Resurrection Man. "But surely the lady you are talking of can't be afraid in such a fortress as this?"
"But she is, though," answered Skilligalee. "The women that occupied the same room with her went away this morning, because the court is going out of town again," he added, with a jovial laugh. "Meg wanted to move into her majesty's room; but Aischa and Eva told her that she must learn to get rid of her stupid fears."