The Romany Rye a sequel to "Lavengro". Borrow George
as pepper; and, besides being dark, his skin was dirty. As for his dress, it was torn and sordid. His chest was broad, and his arms seemed powerful; but, upon the whole, he looked a very caitiff. “I am sorry that man has lost his wife,” thought I; “for I am sure he will never get another.” What surprises me is, that he ever found a woman disposed to unite her lot with his!
After tea I got up and strolled about the field. My thoughts were upon Isopel Berners. I wondered where she was, and how long she would stay away. At length becoming tired and listless, I determined to return to the dingle, and resume the reading of the Bible at the place where I had left off. “What better could I do,” methought, “on a Sunday evening?” I was then near the wood which surrounded the dingle, but at that side which was farthest from the encampment, which stood near the entrance. Suddenly, on turning round the southern corner of the copse, which surrounded the dingle, I perceived Ursula seated under a thorn-bush. I thought I never saw her look prettier than then, dressed as she was, in her Sunday’s best.
“Good evening, Ursula,” said I; “I little thought to have the pleasure of seeing you here.”
“Nor would you, brother,” said Ursula, “had not Jasper told me that you had been talking about me, and wanted to speak to me under a hedge; so, hearing that, I watched your motions, and came here and sat down.”
“I was thinking of going to my quarters in the dingle, to read the Bible, Ursula, but …”
“Oh, pray then, go to your quarters, brother, and read the Miduveleskoe lil; you can speak to me under a hedge some other time.”
“I think I will sit down with you, Ursula; for, after all, reading godly books in dingles at eve is rather sombre work. Yes, I think I will sit down with you;” and I sat down by her side.
“Well, brother, now you have sat down with me under the hedge, what have you to say to me?”
“Why, I hardly know, Ursula.”
“Not know, brother; a pretty fellow you to ask young women to come and sit with you under hedges, and, when they come, not know what to say to them.”
“Oh! ah! I remember; do you know, Ursula, that I take a great interest in you?”
“Thank ye, brother; kind of you, at any rate.”
“You must be exposed to a great many temptations, Ursula.”
“A great many indeed, brother. It is hard to see fine things, such as shawls, gold watches, and chains in the shops, behind the big glasses, and to know that they are not intended for one. Many’s the time I have been tempted to make a dash at them; but I bethought myself that by so doing I should cut my hands, besides being almost certain of being grabbed and sent across the gull’s bath to the foreign country.”
“Then you think gold and fine things temptations, Ursula?”
“Of course, brother, very great temptations; don’t you think them so?”
“Can’t say I do, Ursula.”
“Then more fool you, brother; but have the kindness to tell me what you would call a temptation?”
“Why, for example, the hope of honour and renown, Ursula.”
“The hope of honour and renown! very good, brother; but I tell you one thing, that unless you have money in your pocket, and good broadcloth on your back, you are not likely to obtain much honour and—what do you call it? amongst the gorgios, to say nothing of the Romany chals.”
“I should have thought, Ursula, that the Romany chals, roaming about the world as they do, free and independent, were above being led by such trifles.”
“Then you know nothing of the gypsies, brother; no people on earth are fonder of those trifles, as you call them, than the Romany chals, or more disposed to respect those who have them.”
“Then money and fine clothes would induce you to do anything, Ursula?”
“Ay, ay, brother, anything.”
“To chore, Ursula?”
“Like enough, brother; gypsies have been transported before now for choring.”
“To hokkawar?”
“Ay, ay; I was telling dukkerin only yesterday, brother.”
“In fact, to break the law in everything?”
“Who knows, brother, who knows? as I said before, gold and fine clothes are great temptations.”
“Well, Ursula, I am sorry for it, I should never have thought you so depraved.”
“Indeed, brother.”
“To think that I am seated by one who is willing to—to …”
“Go on, brother.”
“To play the thief.”
“Go on, brother.”
“The liar.”
“Go on, brother.”
“The—the …”
“Go on, brother.”
“The—the lubbeny.”
“The what, brother?” said Ursula, starting from her seat.
“Why, the lubbeny; don’t you …”
“I tell you what, brother,” said Ursula, looking somewhat pale, and speaking very low, “if I had only something in my hand, I would do you a mischief.”
“Why, what is the matter, Ursula?” said I; “how have I offended you?”
“How have you offended me? Why, didn’t you insinivate just now that I was ready to play the—the …”
“Go on, Ursula.”
“The—the … I’ll not say it; but I only wish I had something in my hand.”
“If I have offended, Ursula, I am very sorry for it; any offence I may have given you was from want of understanding you. Come, pray be seated, I have much to question you about—to talk to you about.”
“Seated, not I! It was only just now that you gave me to understand that you was ashamed to be seated by me, a thief, a liar.”
“Well, did you not almost give me to understand that you were both, Ursula?”
“I don’t much care being called a thief and a liar,” said Ursula; “a person may be a liar and a thief, and yet a very honest woman, but …”
“Well, Ursula.”
“I tell you what, brother, if you ever sinivate again that I could be the third thing, so help me duvel! I’ll do you a mischief. By my God I will!”
“Well, Ursula, I assure you that I shall sinivate, as you call it, nothing of the kind about you. I have no doubt, from what you have said, that you are a very paragon of virtue—a perfect Lucretia; but …”
“My name is Ursula, brother, and not Lucretia: Lucretia is not of our family, but one of the Bucklands; she travels about Oxfordshire; yet I am as good as she any day.”
“Lucretia! how odd! Where could she have got that name? Well, I make no doubt, Ursula, that you are quite as good as she, and she as her namesake of ancient Rome; but there is a mystery in this same virtue, Ursula, which I cannot fathom; how a thief and a liar should be able, or indeed willing, to preserve her virtue is what I don’t understand. You confess that you are very fond of gold. Now, how is it that you don’t barter your virtue for gold sometimes? I am a philosopher, Ursula, and like to know everything. You must be every now and then exposed to great temptation, Ursula; for you are of a beauty calculated to captivate all hearts. Come, sit down and tell me how you are enabled to resist such a temptation as gold and