trying to get some heat from them, he looks over the plain, where the mists of night are stealing down. His daughter has gone out roaming by herself; she knows no will but her own. She is sure to return, but here it is night, the moon wiU soon disappear behind the clouds on the horizon. Zemfira is very late and the old man's supper has grown cold waiting for her.
But here she comes and with her on the steppe is a young man unknown to the old gypsy.
"Father," says the young girl, "I have brought you a guest. I met him behind the Kourgane (tumulus) over there and I brought him to the camp for the night. He wants to become a gypsy like us. He is a fugitive from justice, but he will find a good helpmeet in me. His name is Aleko and he says he will follow me wherever I go.'
The Old Man.—It is well, remain under the shadow of our tent until the morrow, longer if you wish. We will share our shelter and our food with you, be one of us. You will soon get used to our manner of living, our wandering life, our poverty and independence. Choose a trade; be a blacksmith, or sing to passers-by, while leading the bear from town to town.
Aleko.—I will remain.
Zemfira.—He is mine and who dares take
