Beyond The Silver Threads. Lara Biyuts

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      The stranger of the German name “Knabbe” was older than his blond-haired friend, rather middle-aged, with a curled and obviously dyed reddish-brown hair and big sinewy hands. His heavy-lidden eyes twinkled and thin mocking lips smiled ironically. Nothing sinister was in the men’s look, even Knabbe’s cane with a knob in shape of a black eagle head –made of black amber, as it became known later --looked rather usual, though his manners looked like a jabber’s at times.

      The members of the small orchestra took seats on chairs, making room for three gypsies, who appeared on the stage making bows and nodding to friends. The elderly gypsy was very obese, and the younger one was as thin as jockey; both of them were dressed quite well and accordingly to their profession and nation: red neck-cloths, long blue jackets, red braided, and baggy dark plushes tucked in high boots; both of them played guitars. Rozamira, the young gypsy woman whose kinky hair was ginger for some reason, straightened the kerseymere shawl on her shoulders, and began singing in a pleasant contralto:

      “The wondrous moment of our meeting...

      I well remember you appear

      before me like a vision fleeting,

      a beauty's angel pure and clear.

      In hopeless ennui surrounding

      the worldly bustle, to my ear

      for long your tender voice kept sounding,

      for long in dreams came features dear.”

      The young woman’s simple dark-blue long-sleeved dress, Spanish shawl, several strands of coral beads around her neck, golden bandeau on her head and golden beads plaited in her two long tresses were nice accessories for her original manner of sinning in Russian.