Lavengro: The Scholar, the Gypsy, the Priest. Borrow George
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that the report was nearly equal to that of a pocket pistol, he cried in a strange tone:—
“What! the sap-engro? Lor! the sap-engro upon the hill!”
“I remember that word,” said I, “and I almost think I remember you. You can’t be—”
“Jasper, your pal! Truth, and no lie, brother.”
“It is strange that you should have known me,” said I. “I am certain, but for the word you used, I should never have recognised you.”
“Not so strange as you may think, brother; there is something in your face which would prevent people from forgetting you, even though they might wish it; and your face is not much altered since the time you wot of, though you are so much grown. I thought it was you, but to make sure I dodged about, inspecting you. I believe you felt me, though I never touched you; a sign, brother, that we are akin, that we are dui palor—two relations. Your blood beat when mine was near, as mine always does at the coming of a brother; and we became brothers in that lane.”
“And where are you staying?” said I; “in this town?”
“Not in the town; the like of us don’t find it exactly wholesome to stay in towns; we keep abroad. But I have little to do here—come with me and I’ll show you where we stay.”
We descended the hill in the direction of the north, and passing along the suburb reached the old Norman bridge, which we crossed; the chalk precipice, with the ruin on its top, was now before us; but turning to the left we walked swiftly along, and presently came to some rising ground, which ascending, we found ourselves upon a wild moor or heath.
“You are one of them,” said I, “whom people call—”
“Just so,” said Jasper; “but never mind what people call us.”
“And that tall handsome man on the hill, whom you whispered? I suppose he’s one of ye. What is his name?”
“Tawno Chikno,” said Jasper, “which means the small one; we call him such because he is the biggest man of all our nation. You say he is handsome, that is not the word, brother; he’s the beauty of the world. Women run wild at the sight of Tawno. An earl’s daughter, near London—a fine young lady with diamonds round her neck—fell in love with Tawno. I have seen that lass on a heath, as this may be, kneel down to Tawno, clasp his feet, begging to be his wife—or anything else—if she might go with him. But Tawno would have nothing to do with her. ‘I have a wife of my own,’ said he, ‘a lawful Rommany wife, whom I love better than the whole world, jealous though she sometimes be’.”
“And is she very beautiful?” said I.
“Why, you know, brother, beauty is frequently a matter of taste; however, as you ask my opinion, I should say not quite so beautiful as himself.”
We had now arrived at a small valley between two hills or downs, the sides of which were covered with furze. In the midst of this valley were various carts and low tents forming a rude kind of encampment; several dark children were playing about, who took no manner of notice of us. As we passed one of the tents, however, a canvas screen was lifted up, and a woman supported upon a crutch hobbled out. She was about the middle age, and, besides being lame, was bitterly ugly; she was very slovenly dressed, and on her swarthy features ill nature was most visibly stamped. She did not deign me a look, but addressing Jasper in a tongue which I did not understand, appeared to put some eager questions to him.
“He’s coming,” said Jasper, and passed on. “Poor fellow,” said he to me, “he has scarcely been gone an hour and she’s jealous already. Well,” he continued, “what do you think of her? you have seen her now and can judge for yourself—that ’ere woman is Tawno Chikno’s wife!”
CHAPTER XVII.
We went to the farthest of the tents, which stood at a slight distance from the rest, and which exactly resembled the one which I have described on a former occasion; we went in and sat down, one on each side of a small fire which was smouldering on the ground, there was no one else in the tent but a tall tawny woman of middle age, who was busily knitting. “Brother,” said Jasper, “I wish to hold some pleasant discourse with you.”
“As much as you please,” said I, “provided you can find anything pleasant to talk about.”
“Never fear,” said Jasper; “and first of all we will talk of yourself. Where have you been all this long time?”
“Here and there,” said I, “and far and near, going about with the soldiers; but there is no soldiering now, so we have sat down, father and family, in the town there.”
“And do you still hunt snakes?” said Jasper.
“No,” said I, “I have given up that long ago; I do better now: read books and learn languages.”
“Well, I am sorry you have given up your snake-hunting; many’s the strange talk I have had with our people about your snake and yourself, and how you frightened my father and mother in the lane.”
“And where are your father and mother?”
“Where I shall never see them, brother; at least, I hope so.”
“Not dead?”
“No, not dead; they are bitchadey pawdel.”
“What’s that?”
“Sent across—banished.”
“Ah! I understand; I am sorry for them. And so you are here alone?”
“Not quite alone, brother!”
“No, not alone; but with the rest—Tawno Chikno takes care of you.”
“Takes care of me, brother!”
“Yes, stands to you in the place of a father—keeps you out of harm’s way.”
“What do you take me for, brother?”
“For about three years older than myself.”
“Perhaps; but you are of the Gorgios, and I am a Rommany Chal. Tawno Chikno take care of Jasper Petulengro!”
“Is that your name?”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Very much, I never heard a sweeter; it is something like what you call me.”
“The horse-shoe master and the snake-fellow, I am the first.”
“Who gave you that name?”
“Ask Pharaoh.”
“I would, if he were here, but I do not see him.”
“I am Pharaoh.”
“Then you are a king.”
“Chachipen, pal.”
“I do not understand you.”
“Where are your languages? You want two things, brother: mother sense and gentle Rommany.”
“What makes you think that I want sense?”
“That, being so old, you can’t yet guide yourself!”
“I can read Dante, Jasper.”
“Anan, brother.”
“I can charm snakes, Jasper.”
“I know you can, brother.”
“Yes, and horses too; bring me the most vicious in the land, if I whisper he’ll be tame.”
“Then the more shame for you—a snake-fellow—a horse-witch—and