The Romany Rye a sequel to "Lavengro". Borrow George

The Romany Rye a sequel to


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take your oath of it, brother—your bodily oath?”

      “Why, I think I might, Jasper!”

      “Did you ever see the soul, brother?”

      “No, I never saw it.”

      “Then how could you swear to it? A pretty figure you would make in a court of justice, to swear to a thing which you never saw. Hold up your head, fellow. When and where did you see it? Now upon your oath, fellow, do you mean to say that this Roman stole the donkey’s foal? Oh, there’s no one for cross-questioning like Counsellor P … Our people when they are in a hobble always like to employ him, though he is somewhat dear. Now, brother, how can you get over the ‘upon your oath, fellow, will you say that you have a soul?’ ”

      “Well, we will take no oaths on the subject; but you yourself believe in the soul. I have heard you say that you believe in dukkerin; now what is dukkerin but the soul science?”

      “When did I say that I believed in it?”

      “Why, after that fight, when you pointed to the bloody mark in the cloud, whilst he you wot of was galloping in the barouche to the old town, amidst the rain-cataracts, the thunder, and flame of heaven.”

      “I have some kind of remembrance of it, brother.”

      “Then, again, I heard you say that the dook of Abershaw rode every night on horseback down the wooded hill.”

      “I say, brother, what a wonderful memory you have!”

      “I wish I had not, Jasper, but I can’t help it; it is my misfortune.”

      “Misfortune! well, perhaps it is; at any rate it is very ungenteel to have such a memory. I have heard my wife say that to show you have a long memory looks very vulgar; and that you can’t give a greater proof of gentility than by forgetting a thing as soon as possible—more especially a promise, or an acquaintance when he happens to be shabby. Well, brother, I don’t deny that I may have said that I believe in dukkerin, and in Abershaw’s dook, which you say is his soul; but what I believe one moment, or say I believe, don’t be certain that I shall believe the next, or say I do.”

      “Indeed, Jasper, I heard you say on a previous occasion, on quoting a piece of a song, that when a man dies he is cast into the earth, and there’s an end of him.”

      “I did, did I? Lor’, what a memory you have, brother! But you are not sure that I hold that opinion now.”

      “Certainly not, Jasper. Indeed, after such a sermon as we have been hearing, I should be very shocked if you held such an opinion.”

      “However, brother, don’t be sure I do not, however shocking such an opinion may be to you.”

      “What an incomprehensible people you are, Jasper.”

      “We are rather so, brother; indeed, we have posed wiser heads than yours before now.”

      “You seem to care for so little, and yet you rove about a distinct race.”

      “I say, brother!”

      “Yes, Jasper.”

      “What do you think of our women?”

      “They have certainly very singular names, Jasper.”

      “Names! Lavengro! But, brother, if you had been as fond of things as of names, you would never have been a pal of ours.”

      “What do you mean, Jasper?”

      “A’n’t they rum animals?”

      “They have tongues of their own, Jasper.”

      “Did you ever feel their teeth and nails, brother?”

      “Never, Jasper, save Mrs. Herne’s. I have always been very civil to them, so …”

      “They let you alone. I say, brother, some part of the secret is in them.”

      “They seem rather flighty, Jasper.”

      “Ay, ay, brother!”

      “Rather fond of loose discourse!”

      “Rather so, brother.”

      “Can you always trust them, Jasper?”

      “We never watch them, brother.”

      “Can they always trust you?”

      “Not quite so well as we can them. However, we get on very well together, except Mikailia and her husband; but Mikailia is a cripple, and is married to the beauty of the world, so she may be expected to be jealous—though he would not part with her for a duchess, no more than I would part with my rawnie, nor any other chal with his.”

      “Ay, but would not the chi part with the chal for a duke, Jasper?”

      “My Pakomovna gave up the duke for me, brother.”

      “But she occasionally talks of him, Jasper.”

      “Yes, brother, but Pakomovna was born on a common not far from the sign of the gammon.”

      “Gammon of bacon, I suppose.”

      “Yes, brother; but gammon likewise means …”

      “I know it does, Jasper; it means fun, ridicule, jest; it is an ancient Norse word, and is found in the Edda.”

      “Lor’, brother! how learned in lils you are!”

      “Many words of Norse are to be found in our vulgar sayings, Jasper; for example—in that particularly vulgar saying of ours, ‘Your mother is up,’ there’s a noble Norse word; mother, there, meaning not the female who bore us, but rage and choler, as I discovered by reading the Sagas, Jasper.”

      “Lor’, brother! how book-learned you be.”

      “Indifferently so, Jasper. Then you think you might trust your wife with the duke?”

      “I think I could, brother, or even with yourself.”

      “Myself, Jasper! Oh, I never troubled my head about your wife; but I suppose there have been love affairs between gorgios and Romany chies. Why, novels are stuffed with such matters; and then even one of your own songs says so—the song which Ursula was singing the other afternoon.”

      “That is somewhat of an old song, brother, and is sung by the chies as a warning at our solemn festivals.”

      “Well! but there’s your sister-in-law, Ursula, herself, Jasper.”

      “Ursula, herself, brother?”

      “You were talking of my having her, Jasper.”

      “Well, brother, why didn’t you have her?”

      “Would she have had me?”

      “Of course, brother. You are so much of a Roman, and speak Romany so remarkably well.”

      “Poor thing! she looks very innocent!”

      “Remarkably so, brother! However, though not born on the same common with my wife, she knows a thing or two of Roman matters.”

      “I should like to ask her a question or two, Jasper, in connection with that song.”

      “You can do no better, brother. Here we are at the camp. After tea, take Ursula under a hedge, and ask her a question or two in connection with that song.”

       Table of Contents

      SUNDAY EVENING—URSULA—ACTION AT LAW—MERIDIANA—MARRIED ALREADY.

      I took tea that evening with Mr. and Mrs. Petulengro and


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