The Disowned — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Disowned — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
“Ha! Ha!” shouted the tall gypsy; “it is many a long day since my old
Mort slapped a gallant’s face for such an affront. But here come our
messmates. Good evening, my mumpers; make your bows to this gentleman
who has come to bowse with us to-night. ‘Gad, we’ll show him that old
ale’s none the worse for keeping company with the moon’s darlings. Come,
sit down, sit down. Where’s the cloth, ye ill-mannered loons, and the
knives and platters? Have we no holiday customs for strangers, think
ye? Mim, my cove, off to my caravan; bring out the knives, and all other
rattletraps; and harkye, my cuffin, this small key opens the inner hole,
where you will find two barrels; bring one of them. I’ll warrant it of
the best, for the brewer himself drank some of the same sort but two
hours before I nimm’d them. Come, stump, my cull, make yourself wings.
Ho, Dame Bingo, is not that pot of thine seething yet? Ah, my young
gentleman, you commence betimes; so much the better; if love’s a
summer’s day, we all know how early a summer morning begins,” added
the jovial Egyptian in a lower voice (feeling perhaps that he was only
understood by himself), as he gazed complacently on the youth, who, with
that happy facility of making himself everywhere at home so uncommon
to his countrymen, was already paying compliments suited to their
understanding to two fair daughters of the tribe who had entered with
the new-comers. Yet had he too much craft or delicacy, call it which you
will, to continue his addresses to that limit where ridicule or jealousy
from the male part of the assemblage might commence; on the contrary, he
soon turned to the men, and addressed them with a familiarity so frank
and so suited to their taste that he grew no less rapidly in their
favour than he had already done in that of the women, and when the
contents of the two caldrons were at length set upon the coarse but
clean cloth which in honour of his arrival covered the sod, it was in
the midst of a loud and universal peal of laughter which some broad
witticism of the young stranger had produced that the party sat down to
their repast.
Bright were the eyes and sleek the tresses of the damsel who placed
herself by the side of the stranger, and many were the alluring glances
and insinuated compliments which replied to his open admiration
and profuse flattery; but still there was nothing exclusive in his
attentions; perhaps an ignorance of the customs of his entertainers, and
a consequent discreet fear of offending them, restrained him; or perhaps
he found ample food for occupation in the plentiful dainties which his
host heaped before him.
“Now tell me,” said the gypsy chief (for chief he appeared to be), “if
we lead not a merrier life than you dreamt of? or would you have us
change our coarse fare and our simple tents, our vigorous limbs and
free hearts, for the meagre board, the monotonous chamber, the diseased
frame, and the toiling, careful, and withered spirit of some miserable
mechanic?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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