"And a whip to scourge the slaves with."
"And if you get on well, and become a young lady, Daimona will find you a husband."
At these words the girl's face darkened. Shaking her head energetically, till the dishevelled hair fell over it again, she struck her thigh vehemently as she exclaimed, with a stamp of her foot:
"Then I will not go!"
A malicious smile curled Araktseieff's lips. Then he continued, in a paternal tone:
"I understand. You have a lover here among the gypsies."
"A 'brother'!" exclaimed the girl.
"Oh, a 'brother'! Gypsies are prudish; they only have 'brothers.' And suppose I were to send your brother, too, to Daimona's castle? He might make a good overseer of slaves."
"Would that be possible?" cried Diabolka, joyously.
"It shall be done. I will send you together to Daimona, and you shall become her confidential people."