There, on the deck of the steamboat were the old Bohemian and the woman.

With them, and no doubt under their direction, landed about twenty dancers and singers, from fifteen to twenty years of age, wrapped in old cloaks, which covered their spangled dresses.

These dresses, just then glancing in the first rays of the sun, reminded Michael of the curious appearance which he had observed during the night.

It must have been the glitter of those spangles in the bright flames issuing from the steamboat's funnel which had attracted his attention.
"Evidently," said Michael to himself, "this troop of Tsiganes, after remaining below all day, crouched under the forecastle during the night.
Were these gipsies trying to show themselves as little as possible?
Such is not according to the usual custom of their race." Michael Strogoff no longer doubted that the expressions he had heard, had proceeded from this tawny group, and had been exchanged between the old gypsy and the woman to whom he gave the Mongolian name of Sangarre.
Michael involuntarily moved towards the gangway, as the Bohemian troop was leaving the steamboat.
The old Bohemian was there, in a humble attitude, little conformable with the effrontery natural to his race.

One would have said that he was endeavoring rather to avoid attention than to attract it.