He laughed: "You didn't know me yourself, you see? I was safe."
"Monsieur Velasco, you were coming to me? Ah, but they told you a lie! I—" She breathed a few words to him softly.
"They would have—"
She nodded.
"When?"
"To-morrow at daybreak."
"In spite of Mezkarpin?"
She broke down and buried her face in her hands.
Velasco began to pace the room slowly. "If you had a costume like mine," he said, "If your hair were cut—" Then he brightened suddenly and ran forward to the girl, snatching her hands from her eyes, dragging her to her feet.
"What a fool I was!" he cried, "What an idiot! Quick, Kaya! My chum is an artist; he is off now in Sicily, painting the rocks, and the sea, and the peasants; but his things are all there in his room next to mine, just duds for his models you know. Go—go! Put on one like mine. You shall be a boy. We will be boys together, gypsies, and play for our living. We will walk to the frontier, Kaya, together."