CORA AND HELKA
"What a wonderful morning! It makes me think of the Far East," said
the gypsy queen.
"Have you been there?" asked Cora politely.
"Yes, I have been many places," replied Helka, "and to-day I will have
a chance to tell you some queer stories about myself. I have a lover."
"Then you are content here? You are not lonely?"
"But I dare not own him as a lover; he is not a gypsy."
"This is America. You should be free."
"Yes," and she sighed. "I wonder shall I ever be able to get away!"
"Shall _I_?"
How strange! Two such beautiful young women prisoners in the heart of
the White Mountains!
Cora repeated her question.
"Perhaps," answered Helka. "You see, they might fear punishment if you
escaped; with me it would be--my punishment."
"But what shall I do?" sighed Cora. "Do you really think they intend
to keep me here?"
"Is this not a pleasant place?"
"It is indeed--with you. And I am glad that, bad as it is, I have had
a chance to know you. I feel some day that I shall have a chance to
help you."
"You are a cheerful girl. I was afraid you would put in all your time
crying. Then they would take you away."
"No use to cry," replied Cora, as brightly as she could. "Of course,
it is dreadful. But, at least, I am not being abused."
"Nor shall you be. The gypsies are not cruel; they are merely
revengeful. I think I like them because they are my truest friends in
all the whole, wide world."
A tap at the door stopped the conversation. Then a girl entered. She
was the one who had been in the van with Cora!
She looked keenly at the captive and smiled.
"Do you wish anything?" she asked of the queen.
"Yes, breakfast to-day must be double. You see, Lena, I have a friend."
"Yes, I see. I am glad she is better."
"Thank you," said Cora, but, of course, she had no way of knowing how
this girl had tried to befriend her in the gypsy wagon.
"We have some splendid berries. I picked them before the sun touched
them," said Lena. "And fresh milk; also toast, and what else?"
"We will leave it to you, Lena. I know Sam went to market."
"Yes, and will the young lady like some of your robes? I thought that
dress might not suit for daylight."
Cora was still wearing her handsome yellow gown that she had worn at
the Tip-Top ball. It did look strange in the bright, early morning
sunshine.
"Would you?" asked Helka of Cora. "I have a good bathroom, and there
is plenty of water." She smiled and showed that wonderful set of
teeth. Cora thought she had never before seen such human pearls.
"It is very kind of you," and Cora sighed. "If I must stay I suppose I
may as well be practical about it."
"Oh, yes," Lena ventured. "They all like you, and it will be so much
better not to give any trouble."
"You see, Lena knows," said the queen. "Yes, Lena, get out something
pretty, and Miss----"
"Cora," supplied the prisoner.
"Cora? What an odd name! But it suits you. There is so much coral in
your cheeks. Yes, Miss Cora must wear my English robe--the one with
the silver crown."
To dress in the robes of a gypsy queen! If only this were a play, and
not so tragically real!
But the thought was not comforting. It meant imprisonment. Cora had
determined to be brave, but it was hard. Yet she must hope that
something unexpected would happen to rescue her.
"Lena is my maid," explained Helka. "I tell her more than any of the
others. And she fetches my letters secretly. Have you not one for me
today, Lena?"
The girl slipped her hand in her blouse and produced a paper. The
queen grasped it eagerly. "Oh, yes," she said, "I knew he would write.
Good David!" and she tore open the envelope. Cora watched her face and
guessed that the missive was from the lover. Lena went out to bring
the breakfast things.
"If only I could go out and meet him!" said the queen, finishing the
letter. "I would run away and marry him. He has been so good to wait
so long. Just think! He has followed me from England!"
"And you never meet him?"
"Not since they suspect. It was then they bought the two fierce dogs.
I would never dare pass them. Sometimes they ask me to take a ride in
the big wagon, but I never could ride in that. You see, I am not all a
gypsy. My father was a sort of Polish nobleman and my mother was part
English. She became interested in the great question of the poor, and
so left society for this--the free life. My father was also a
reformer, and they were married twice--to make sure. It is my father's
money that keeps me like this, and, of course, the tribe does not want
to lose me."
"And this man David?"
"I met him when I rode like a queen in an open chariot in a procession.
That is, he saw me, and, like the queens in the old stories, he managed
to get a note to me. Then I had him come to the park we were quartered
in. And since then--but it does seem so long!"
"Could not Lena take a letter for me?" asked Cora timidly.
"Oh, no! They would punish her very severely if she interfered in your
case. You see, Salvo must be avenged and released from jail. I always
hated Salvo!"
Cora was silent. Presently the girl returned and placed the linen
tablecloth on the floor. Following her came the other girl, with a
tray of things. It was strange to see them set the table on the floor,
but Cora remembered that this was a custom of the wanderers. When the
breakfast had been arranged, the queen slipped down beside her coffee
like a creature devoid of bones.
She was very graceful and agile--like some animal of the forest. Cora
took her place, with limbs crossed, and felt like a Turk. But the
repast was not uninviting. The berries were fresh, and the milk was in
a clean bowl; in fact, everything showed that the queen's money had
bought the service.
They talked and ate. Helka was very gay, the letter must have
contained cheering news, and Cora was reminded how much she would have
loved to have had a single word from one of her dear ones. But she
must hope and wait.
"Do take some water cress," pressed the strange hostess, possibly
noting that Cora ate little. "I think this cress in America is one of
your real luxuries. We have never before camped at a place where it
could be gathered fresh from the spring." Daintily she laid some on
the green salad on a thin slice of the fresh bread, and after offering
the salt and pepper, placed the really "civilized" sandwich on the
small plate beside Cora. "There is just one thing I should love to go
into the world for," said the queen. "I would love to have my meals at
a hotel. I am savagely fond of eating."
"We had such a splendid hotel," answered Cora with a sigh. "It seems a
mockery that I cannot invite you there with me--that even I cannot go
myself. I keep turning the matter over and over in my mind, and the
more I think the more impossible it all seems."
"Nothing is impossible in Gypsy land," replied the queen, helping
herself to some berries. "And it may even not be impossible to do as
you suggest. But we must wait," and she smiled prettily. "You have a
very great habit of haste; feverish haste, the books call it. I
believe it is worse for one's complexion than are cigarettes. Let me
begin making a Gypsy of you by teaching you to wait. You have a great
deal to wait for."
Cora glanced around her to avoid the eyes of the speaker. Surely she
did have a great deal to wait for. "Do you stay in doors all the
time?" she asked, glad to think of some leading question. "I should
think that would hurt your complexion."
"We often walk in the grounds. You see, we own almost all the woods,
but I am afraid they will not trust you yet. You will have to promise
me that you will not try to escape if I ask that you be allowed to walk
with me soon," said Helka.
"I could not promise that," Cora replied sadly.
"Oh, I suppose not now. I will not ask you. We will just be good
friends. And I will tell you about David. It is delightful to have
some one whom I can trust to tell about him."
"And I will tell you about my friends! Perhaps I will not be so lonely
if I talk of them."
Cora was now strong enough in nerve and will to observe her
surroundings. The room was very large, and was undoubtedly used
formerly as a billiard parlor, for it was situated in the top of the
big house, and on all sides were windows, even a colored glass skylight
in the roof. The floors were of hardwood and covered partially with
foreign rugs. There were low divans, but no tables nor chairs. The
whole scene was akin to that described as oriental. Lena returned with
the robes for Cora, and laid them on a divan. Then she adjusted a
screen, thus forming a dressing room in one corner. This corner was
hung with an oblong mirror, framed in wonderful ebony. Helka saw that
this attracted Cora's attention.
"You are wondering about my glass? It was a gift from my father to my
mother, and is all I have left of her beautiful things. It has been
very difficult to carry that about the world."
"It is very handsome and very massive," remarked Cora.
"Yes, I love black things; I like ebony. They called my mother Bonnie,
for she had ebony eyes and hair."
"So have you," said Cora.
"I am glad you are dark; it will make it easier, and the tribe will
think you are safer. I really would like to get you back to your
friends, but then I should lose you. And I don't see, either, how it
ever could be managed unless they want to let you go."
Cora sighed heavily. Then she prepared to don the garb of the gypsy
queen!