“I ask not for reward,” answered the youth. “It is but a debt of gratitude each man of the tribe owes to the young stranger; and I should be base if I were not ready to pay it: I will save him, or perish in the attempt.”
“I trust you fully, Javis,” said the chief; “and now we will call Azila to our conference.”
He beckoned his daughter to approach; and for a considerable time they held an earnest consultation together.
As they finished speaking, a boy ran in, to inform the chief that a stranger was approaching the encampment.
“I will speak with him,” said the chief.
In a few minutes the boy returned, accompanied by a peasant, whose weary and sorrowful appearance seemed to demand compassion.
“Who are you?” said the chief, eyeing him narrowly, and apparently satisfied with his scrutiny. “Who are you, who come uninvited among the people of Rommany? What do you seek with us?”
“If you are the person I take you to be, you shall presently know,” answered the peasant; “tell me, are you not that kind, honest Gipsy, who was once very civil to my master; my poor young master, whom I have been seeking all over the city, and can hear nothing of. Alas! alas! I fear that he is in great peril.”
“Who is your master?” asked the Gipsy; “when I know that, I may perhaps answer some of your questions.”
“My poor young master,” replied the peasant, who proved to be our old friend Karl, “is the son of Baron Galetzoff. Well, I was sent to Moscow to-day, and venturing to pay a visit to my young Lord, I heard that he had disappeared, nobody knows where. I have been seeking for him all day, in every place I could think of, and have now come to ask you, if you know any thing of him?”