One of them was humming a song of strange rhythm, which might be thus rendered: "Glitters brightly the gold In my raven locks streaming Rich coral around My graceful neck gleaming; Like a bird of the air, Through the wide world I roam." The laughing girl continued her song, but Michael Strogoff ceased to listen.

It struck him just then that the Tsigane, Sangarre, was regarding him with a peculiar gaze, as if to fix his features indelibly in her memory.
It was but for a few moments, when Sangarre herself followed the old man and his troop, who had already left the vessel.

"That's a bold gypsy," said Michael to himself.

"Could she have recognized me as the man whom she saw at Nijni-Novgorod?
These confounded Tsiganes have the eyes of a cat! They can see in the dark; and that woman there might well know--" Michael Strogoff was on the point of following Sangarre and the gypsy band, but he stopped.

"No," thought he, "no unguarded proceedings.