"In my thoughts," said the Bohemian, "which no chains can bind; while yours, even when your limbs are free, remain fettered by your laws and your superstitions, your dreams of local attachment, and your fantastic visions of civil policy. Such as I are free in spirit when our limbs are chained – You are imprisoned in mind, even when your limbs are most at freedom."
"Yet the freedom of your thoughts," said the Scot, "relieves not the pressure of the gyves on your limbs."
"For a brief time that may be endured," answered the vagrant; "and if within that period I cannot extricate myself, and fail of relief from my comrades, I can always die, and death is the most perfect freedom of all."
There was a deep pause of some duration, which Quentin at length broke by resuming his queries.
"Yours is a wandering race, unknown to the nations of Europe – Whence do they derive their origin?"
"I may not tell you," answered the Bohemian.
"When will they relieve this kingdom from their presence, and return to the land from whence they came?" said the Scot.
"When the day of their pilgrimage shall be accomplished," replied his vagrant guide.
"Are you not sprung from those tribes of Israel, which were carried into captivity beyond the great river Euphrates?" said Quentin, who had not forgotten the lore which had been taught him at Aberbrothick.
"Had we been so," answered the Bohemian, "we had followed their faith, and practised their rites."