“‘Stop, stop!’ again croaked out the old woman.
“The Zingari maiden pretended to relent, and stopped.
“‘Well, mother dear, perhaps you would like to try the effects of this great discovery. Often has the attempt been made, but in vain, to give back youth to age, to renovate the beauty which years and sickness have destroyed. The secret has been obtained. A liquid, distilled from the dew found on certain plants at early dawn, has that wondrous power. Every day the effect is perceptible; the limbs become strong, the muscles vigorous, the cheeks fill out, the roses return, the eyes grow bright, the step elastic, the—’
“‘Oh, give me some of it!’ shrieked the wretched hag, stretching out her withered arms. ‘I’ll try it!—I’ll try it! What do you demand, girl?—say quickly!’
“‘Try it first, and as you prove its effects, then you shall reward me accordingly,’ said Minetta, producing a bottle with a colourless liquid from under her cloak. She poured out some of the liquid on a sponge, and held it to the mouth of the hag. In a few moments its effects were indeed perceptible; her eyes closed, her arms hung down, and she was in a state of stupor.
“‘What have you been about?’ I exclaimed, afraid that some injury might have been done the old woman.
“‘No harm whatever,’ she answered, laughing. ‘Do you go in, and bring out your Aneouta. I will watch here, and then the sooner we are away the better.’
“With a beating heart, I sprang into the house. There were but five or six rooms. In the last I found a female, sitting with her hands crossed on her knees, looking on vacancy. She started on hearing a person enter, and gazed up at my countenance. I knew her by her figure; but, alas! Grief and anxiety had sadly changed her features. Still she was my Aneouta. Of that I was certain. Eagerly, inquiringly, she looked at me. Her eyes ran over my gipsy costume, then she once more gazed into my eyes, and springing up, threw herself into my arms.
“‘It is you—you, my Steffanoff!’ she exclaimed, in a voice that went to my heart. ‘Tell me not that it is any one else. It is you—it is you. I know you through your disguise. The dark skin—the Zingari dress—the white hair cannot deceive me. You have come to save me from this—to take me away—to carry me to your home. Tell me that I do not dream. Tell me that it is a reality I enjoy. Tell me that it is you yourself I hold in my arms!’
“‘Oh, my Aneouta, it is indeed your Steffanoff who has found you out—who has come to carry you from this place,’ I exclaimed, pressing her to my heart. ‘But there is no time to delay—I will tell you all by and by. We must be away at once, or we may be pursued.’