The Gipsy: A Tale (Vols I & II). G. P. R. James
the two horsemen whom we have conducted a short stage on their way, now turns to another of our characters not less important to our tale.
In the same wood, which we have already described as clothing the hills and skirting the road over which De Vaux and his companion were travelling, but in a far more intricate part thereof than that into which the reader's eye has hitherto penetrated, might be seen, at the hour which we have chosen for the commencement of our tale, the figure of a man creeping quietly, but quickly, along a path so covered by the long branches of the underwood, that it could only be followed out by one who knew well the deepest recesses of the forest.
This personage was spare in form, and without being tall, as compared with other men, he was certainly tall in reference to his other proportions. His arms were long and sinewy, his feet small, his ankles well turned, and his whole body giving the promise of great activity, though at a time of life when the agile pliancy of youth is generally past and gone. He was dressed in an old brown long coat, "a world too wide" for his spare form, so that, as he crept along with a quiet, serpentine turning of his body, he looked like an eel in a great coat, if the reader's imagination be vivid enough to call up such an image. A hat, which had seen other days, and many of them, covered his brows; but under that hat was a countenance, which, however ordinary might be the rest of his appearance, redeemed the whole from the common herd. The complexion spoke his race: it was of a pale, greenish tint, without any rosier hue in the cheeks to enliven the pure gipsy colour of his skin. His nose was small, and slightly aquiline, though of a peculiar bend, forming, from the forehead to the tip, what Hogarth drew for the line of beauty. The eyebrows were small, and pencilled like a Circassian's, and the eyes themselves, shining through their long, thick, black eyelashes, were full of deep light, and--to use a very anomalous crowd of words--of wild, dark, melancholy fire. His forehead was broad and high; and the long, soft, glossy, black hair that fell in untrimmed profusion round his face had hardly suffered from the blanching hand of time, although his age could not be less than fifty-five or fifty-six, and might be more. His teeth, too, were unimpaired, and of as dazzling a whiteness as if beetle and recca had all possessed the properties their venders assert, and had all been tried on them in their turn.
Such was his appearance, as, creeping along through the brushwood with a stealthy motion, which would hardly have disturbed the deer from their lair, he made his way towards the spot where we have seen that his fellows were encamped. He was still far distant from it, however; and although it was evident that he was, or had been, well acquainted with the intricacies of the wood, yet it appeared that some leading marks were necessary to guide him surely on his way; for, ever and anon, when he could find a round knob of earth, raising itself above the rest of the ground, he would climb it, and gaze for several moments over the world of wood below him, rich in all the splendid hues of autumn, and flooded by the purple light of the evening.
Ever, as he thus looked out, there might be seen a column of bluish-white smoke rising from a spot at a mile's distance; and, after towering up solemnly in the still air for several hundred feet, spreading into light rolling clouds, and drifting among the wood. Thitherward, again, he always turned his course; and any one who has remarked the fondness of gipsies for a fire, even when they have no apparent necessity for it, will little doubt that the smoke, or the flame, serves them, on many occasions, for a signal or a guide.
As progression through thick bushes can never be very rapid, the evening had faded nearly into twilight ere the gipsy reached the encampment of his companions. The hearing of those whose safety often depends upon the sharpness of their ears is, of course, sufficiently acuminated by habit; and although his steps were, as we have shown, stealthy enough, his approach did not escape the attention of the party round the fire. We have seen that they had taken but little apparent notice of the two travellers, who had passed them about a quarter of an hour before; but the sound of quiet footsteps from the side of the wood, the moving of the branches, and the slight rustle of the autumn leaves, caused a far greater sensation. Two or three of the stoutest started instantly on their feet, and watched the spot whence those sounds proceeded, as if not quite sure what species of visiter the trees might conceal. The moment after, however, the figure we have described, emerging into the more open part of the wood, seemed to satisfy his comrades that there was no cause for apprehension; and those who had risen turned towards the others, saying, "It is Pharold," in a tone which, without expressing much pleasure, at all events announced no alarm.
Several of the young gipsies sprang up, shaking their many-coloured rags--for, like the goddess of the painted bow, their clothing was somewhat motley--and ran on to meet the new comer; while the elder members of the respectable assemblage congregated under the oaks, though they did not show the same alacrity, perhaps, as the younger and more volatile of the party, received him with an air in which reverence was mingled with a slight touch of sullenness.
"Who has passed since I left you, William?" was the first question of the gipsy on his return, addressing one of the young men who had been lying nearer than the others to the high-road, and by whose side appeared, as he rose, a most portentous cudgel.
"A woman with eggs from the market; three labourers from the fields; a gamekeeper, who damned us all, and said, if he had his will, he would rid the country of us: and two gentlemen on horseback, who gave Leena a shilling," was the accurate reply of the young gipsy, whose face, we must remark, assumed not the most amiable expression that ever face put on, as he recorded the comments of the gamekeeper upon his race and profession. The other, who has been called Pharold, at first paid no attention to any part of the account, except the apparition of the two gentlemen on horseback; but in regard to them, he asked many a question--were they old or young--what was their appearance--their size--their apparent profession?
To all these inquiries he received such correct and minute replies, as showed that the seeming indifference with which the gipsy had regarded the two travellers was anything but real; and that every particular of their dress and circumstances which eye could reach or inference arrive at, had been carefully marked, and, as it were, written down on memory.
The language which the gipsies spoke among themselves was a barbarous compound of some foreign tongue, the origin and structure of which has, and most likely ever will, baffle inquiry, and of English, mingled with many a choice phrase from the very expressive jargon called slang. Thus, when the gipsy spoke of gentlemen he called them raye, when he spoke of the peasant, he termed him gazo: but as the gipsy tongue may, probably, be not very edifying to the reader, the conversation of our characters shall continue to be carried on in a language which is more generally intelligible.
The account rendered by the young man, however, did not seem satisfactory to the elder, who twice asked if that were all; and then made some more particular inquiries concerning the gamekeeper who had expressed such friendly sentiments towards his tribe.
"Keep a good watch, my boys," he said, after musing for a moment or two on the answers he received; "keep a good watch. There is danger stirring abroad; and I fear that we shall be obliged to lift our tents, and quit this pleasant nook."
"The sooner we quit it the better, I say," cried the beldam who had been tending the pot. "What the devil we do here at all, I don't know. Why, we are wellnigh four miles from a farm yard, and five from the village; and how you expect us to get food I don't understand."
"Are there not plenty of rabbits and hares in the wood?" said the other, in reply; "I saw at least a hundred run as I crossed just now."
"But one cannot eat brown meat for ever," rejoined the dame; "and tiny Dick was obliged to go five miles for the turkey in the pot; and then had very near been caught in nimming it off the edge of the common."
"Well, give me the brown meat for my share," answered Pharold; "I will eat none of the white things that they have fattened and fed up with their hoarded corn, and have watched early and late, like a sick child. Give me the free beast that runs wild, and by nature's law belongs to no one but him who catches it."
"No, no, Pharold, you must have your share of turkey too," cried the old lady; for although it may appear strange, yet as there is honour among thieves, so there may be sometimes that sort of generosity among gipsies which led the good dame who, on the present occasion, presided over the pot--though, to judge by her size