"Hark, my golden rye, and watch me dance your love into my life." The wind was rising and sighed through the wood, shaking myriad leaves from the trees.

Blending with its faint cry came a long, sweet, sustained note of music.

Lambert started, so weird and unexpected was the sound.

"Kara, isn't it ?" he asked, looking inquiringly at Chaldea.
"He talks to the night--he speaks with the wind.

Oh-ah-ah-ah.
Ah-oha-oha-oha-ho," sang the gypsy, clapping her hands softly, then, as the music came breathing from the hidden violin in dreamy sensuous tones, she raised her bare arms and began to dance.