Lavengro: the Scholar - the Gypsy - the Priest. Borrow George
so noiseless as not to alarm the inmates, who consisted of a man and woman, who sat apart, one on each side of the fire; they were both busily employed—the man was carding plaited straw, whilst the woman seemed to be rubbing something with a white powder, some of which lay on a plate beside her; suddenly the man looked up, and, perceiving me, uttered a strange kind of cry, and the next moment both the woman and himself were on their feet and rushing out upon me.
I retreated a few steps, yet without turning to flee. I was not, however, without apprehension, which, indeed, the appearance of these two people was well calculated to inspire; the woman was a stout figure, seemingly between thirty and forty; she wore no cap, and her long hair fell on either side of her head like horse-tails half way down her waist; her skin was dark and swarthy, like that of a toad, and the expression of her countenance was particularly evil; her arms were bare, and her bosom was but half concealed by a slight boddice, below which she wore a coarse petticoat, her only other article of dress. The man was somewhat younger, but of a figure equally wild; his frame was long and lathy, but his arms were remarkably short, his neck was rather bent, he squinted slightly, and his mouth was much awry; his complexion was dark, but, unlike that of the woman, it was more ruddy than livid; there was a deep scar on his cheek, something like the impression of a halfpenny. The dress was quite in keeping with the figure: in his hat, which was slightly peaked, was stuck a peacock’s feather; over a waistcoat of hide, untanned and with the hair upon it, he wore a rough jerkin of russet hue; smallclothes of leather, which had probably once belonged to a soldier, but with which pipeclay did not seem to have come in contact for many a year, protected his lower man as far as the knee; his legs were cased in long stockings of blue worsted, and on his shoes he wore immense old-fashioned buckles.
Such were the two beings who now came rushing upon me; the man was rather in advance, brandishing a ladle in his hand.
“So I have caught you at last,” said he; “I’ll teach ye, you young highwayman, to come skulking about my properties!”
Young as I was, I remarked that his manner of speaking was different from that of any people with whom I had been in the habit of associating. It was quite as strange as his appearance, and yet it nothing resembled the foreign English which I had been in the habit of hearing through the palisades of the prison; he could scarcely be a foreigner.
“Your properties!” said I; “I am in the King’s Lane. Why did you put them there, if you did not wish them to be seen?”
“On the spy,” said the woman, “hey? I’ll drown him in the sludge in the toad-pond over the hedge.”
“So we will,” said the man, “drown him anon in the mud!”
“Drown me, will you?” said I; “I should like to see you! What’s all this about? Was it because I saw you with your hands full of straw plait, and my mother there—”
“Yes,” said the woman; “what was I about?”
Myself. How should I know? Making bad money, perhaps!
And it will be as well here to observe, that at this time there was much bad money in circulation in the neighbourhood, generally supposed to be fabricated by the prisoners, so that this false coin and straw plait formed the standard subjects of conversation at Norman Cross.
“I’ll strangle thee,” said the beldame, dashing at me. “Bad money, is it?”
“Leave him to me, wifelkin,” said the man, interposing; “you shall now see how I’ll baste him down the lane.”
Myself. I tell you what, my chap, you had better put down that thing of yours; my father lies concealed within my tepid breast, and if to me you offer any harm or wrong, I’ll call him forth to help me with his forked tongue.
Man. What do you mean, ye Bengui’s bantling? I never heard such discourse in all my life: playman’s speech or Frenchman’s talk—which, I wonder? Your father! tell the mumping villain that if he comes near my fire I’ll serve him out as I will you. Take that—Tiny Jesus! what have we got here! Oh, delicate Jesus! what is the matter with the child?
I had made a motion which the viper understood; and now, partly disengaging itself from my bosom, where it had lain perdu, it raised its head to a level with my face, and stared upon my enemy with its glittering eyes.
The man stood like one transfixed, and the ladle with which he had aimed a blow at me, now hung in the air like the hand which held it: his mouth was extended, and his cheeks became of a pale yellow, save alone that place which bore the mark which I have already described, and this shone now portentously, like fire. He stood in this manner for some time; at last the ladle fell from his hand, and its falling appeared to rouse him from his stupor.
“I say, wifelkin,” said he in a faltering tone, “did you ever see the like of this here?”
But the woman had retreated to the tent, from the entrance of which her loathly face was now thrust, with an expression partly of terror and partly of curiosity. After gazing some time longer at the viper and myself, the man stooped down and took up the ladle; then, as if somewhat more assured, he moved to the tent, where he entered into conversation with the beldame in a low voice. Of their discourse, though I could hear the greater part of it, I understood not a single word; and I wondered what it could be, for I knew by the sound that it was not French. At last the man, in a somewhat louder tone, appeared to put a question to the woman, who nodded her head affirmatively, and in a moment or two produced a small stool, which she delivered to him. He placed it on the ground, close by the door of the tent, first rubbing it with his sleeve, as if for the purpose of polishing its surface.
Man. Now, my precious little gentleman, do sit down here by the poor people’s tent; we wish to be civil in our slight way. Don’t be angry, and say no; but look kindly upon us, and satisfied, my precious little God Almighty.
Woman. Yes, my georgeous angel, sit down by the poor bodies’ fire, and eat a sweatmeat. We want to ask you a question or two; only first put that serpent away.
Myself. I can sit down, and bid the serpent go to sleep, that’s easy enough; but as for eating a sweetmeat, how can I do that? I have not got one, and where am I to get it?
Woman. Never fear, my tiny tawny, we can give you one, such as you never ate, I dare say, however far you may have come from.
The serpent sunk into his usual resting-place, and I sat down on the stool. The woman opened a box, and took out a strange little basket or hamper, not much larger than a man’s fist, and formed of a delicate kind of matting. It was sewed at the top; but ripping it open with a knife, she held it to me, and I saw, to my surprise, that it contained candied fruits of a dark green hue, tempting enough to one of my age. “There, my tiny,” said she; “taste, and tell me how you like them.”
“Very much,” said I; “where did you get them?”
The beldame leered upon me for a moment, then, nodding her head thrice, with a knowing look, said, “Who knows better than yourself, my tawny?”
Now, I knew nothing about the matter; but I saw that these strange people had conceived a very high opinion of the abilities of their visitor, which I was nothing loath to encourage. I therefore answered boldly, “Ah! who indeed!”
“Certainly,” said the man; “who should know better than yourself, or so well? And now, my tiny one, let me ask you one thing—you didn’t come to do us any harm?”
“No,” said I, “I had no dislike to you; though, if you were to meddle with me—”
Man. Of course, my gorgeous, of course you would; and quite right too. Meddle with you!—what right have we? I should say, it would not be quite safe. I see how it is; you are one of them there;—and he bent his head towards his left shoulder.
Myself. Yes, I am one of them—for I thought he was alluding to the soldiers—you had best mind what you are about, I can tell you.
Man. Don’t doubt we will for