CHAPTER III.
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ?--As You Like It.
The sun broke cheerfully through the small lattice of the caravan, as the youth opened his eyes and saw the good-humoured countenance of his gypsy host bending over him complacently.
"You slept so soundly, sir, that I did not like to disturb you; but my good wife only waits your rising to have all ready for breakfast." "It were a thousand pities," cried the guest, leaping from his bed, "that so pretty a face should look cross on my account, so I will not keep her waiting an instant." The gypsy smiled, as he answered, "I require no professional help from the devil, sir, to foretell your fortune." "No!--and what is it ?" "Honour, reputation, success: all that are ever won by a soft tongue, if it be backed by a bold heart." Bright and keen was the flash which shot over the countenance of the one for whom this prediction was made, as he listened to it with a fondness for which his reason rebuked him.
He turned aside with a sigh, which did not escape the gypsy, and bathed his face in the water which the provident hand of the good woman had set out for his lavations.
"Well," said his host, when the youth had finished his brief toilet, "suppose we breathe the fresh air, while Lucy smooths your bed and prepares the breakfast ?" "With all my heart," replied the youth, and they descended the steps which led into the wood.

It was a beautiful, fresh morning; the air was like a draught from a Spirit's fountain, and filled the heart with new youth and the blood with a rapturous delight; the leaves--the green, green leaves of spring--were quivering on the trees, among which the happy birds fluttered and breathed the gladness of their souls in song.
While the dewdrops that-- "strewed A baptism o'er the flowers"-- gave back in their million mirrors the reflected smiles of the cloudless and rejoicing sun.
"Nature," said the gypsy, "has bestowed on her children a gorgeous present in such a morning." "True," said the youth; "and you, of us two, perhaps only deserve it; as for me, when I think of the long road of dust, heat, and toil, that lies before me, I could almost wish to stop here and ask an admission into the gypsy's tents." "You could not do a wiser thing!" said the gypsy, gravely.
"But fate leaves me no choice," continued the youth, as seriously as if he were in earnest; "and I must quit you immediately after I have a second time tasted of your hospitable fare." "If it must be so," answered the gypsy, "I will see you, at least, a mile or two on your road." The youth thanked him for a promise which his curiosity made acceptable, and they turned once more to the caravan.
The meal, however obtained, met with as much honour as it could possibly have received from the farmer from whom its materials were borrowed.
It was not without complacency that the worthy pair beheld the notice their guest lavished upon a fair, curly-headed boy of about three years old, the sole child and idol of the gypsy potentates.

But they did not perceive, when the youth rose to depart, that he slipped into the folds of the child's dress a ring of some value, the only one he possessed.
"And now," said he, after having thanked his entertainers for their hospitality, "I must say good-by to your flock, and set out upon my day's journey." Lucy, despite her bashfulness, shook hands with her handsome guest; and the latter, accompanied by the gypsy chief, strolled down to the encampments.
Open and free was his parting farewell to the inmates of the two tents, and liberal was the hand which showered upon all--especially on the damsel who had been his Thais of the evening feast--the silver coins which made no inconsiderable portion of his present property.
It was amidst the oracular wishes and favourable predictions of the whole crew that he recommenced his journey with the gypsy chief.
When the tents were fairly out of sight, and not till then, King Cole broke the silence which had as yet subsisted between them.
"I suppose, my young gentleman, that you expect to meet some of your friends or relations at W----?
I know not what they will say when they hear where you have spent the night." "Indeed!" said the youth; "whoever hears my adventures, relation or not, will be delighted with my description; but in sober earnest, I expect to find no one at W---- more my friend than a surly innkeeper, unless it be his dog." "Why, they surely do not suffer a stripling of your youth and evident quality to wander alone!" cried King Cole, in undisguised surprise.
The young traveller made no prompt answer, but bent down as if to pluck a wild-flower which grew by the road-side: after a pause, he said,-- "Nay, Master Cole, you must not set me the example of playing the inquisitor, or you cannot guess how troublesome I shall be.

To tell you the truth, I am dying with curiosity to know something more about you than you may be disposed to tell me: you have already confessed that, however boon companions your gypsies may be, it is not among gypsies that you were born and bred." King Cole laughed: perhaps he was not ill pleased by the curiosity of his guest, nor by the opportunity it afforded him of being his own hero.
"My story, sir," said he, "would be soon told, if you thought it worth the hearing, nor does it contain anything which should prevent my telling it." "If so," quoth the youth, "I shall conceive your satisfying my request a still greater favour than those you have already bestowed upon me." The gypsy relaxed his pace into an indolent saunter, as he commenced:-- "The first scene that I remember was similar to that which you witnessed last night.

The savage tent, and the green moor; the fagot blaze; the eternal pot, with its hissing note of preparation; the old dame who tended it, and the ragged urchins who learned from its contents the first reward of theft and the earliest temptation to it,--all these are blended into agreeable confusion as the primal impressions of my childhood.