Unlike as he and Gabriel Druse were in height, build, and movement, still there was something akin in them both.
After a short silence evidently disconcerting to him, "Blessing and hail, my Ry," he said in a low tone.

He spoke in a strange language and with a voice rougher than his looks would have suggested.
The old man made a haughty gesture of impatience.

"What do you want with me, my Romany 'chal' ?" he asked sharply .-- [A glossary of Romany words will be found at the end of the book.] The young man replied hastily.

He seemed to speak by rote.

His manner was too eager to suit the impressiveness of his words.