The Romany Rye: a sequel to "Lavengro"Borrow, George
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The Romany Rye: a sequel to "Lavengro"
Borrow, George
Adventure stories; England -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
I continued dozing over the fire, until rousing myself I perceived that
the brands were nearly consumed, and I thought of retiring for the night.
I arose, and was about to enter my tent, when a thought struck me.
"Suppose," thought I, "that Isopel Berners should return in the midst of
the night, how dark and dreary would the dingle appear without a fire!
truly, I will keep up the fire, and I will do more; I have no board to
spread for her, but I will fill the kettle, and heat it, so that if she
comes, I may be able to welcome her with a cup of tea, for I know she
loves tea." Thereupon, I piled more wood upon the fire, and soon
succeeded in producing a better blaze than before; then, taking the
kettle, I set out for the spring. On arriving at the mouth of the
dingle, which fronted the east, I perceived that Charles's wain was
nearly opposite to it, high above in the heavens, by which I knew that
the night was tolerably well advanced. The gypsy encampment lay before
me; all was hushed and still within it, and its inmates appeared to be
locked in slumber; as I advanced, however, the dogs, which were fastened
outside the tents, growled and barked; but presently recognising me, they
were again silent, some of them wagging their tails. As I drew near a
particular tent, I heard a female voice say--"Some one is coming!" and,
as I was about to pass it, the cloth which formed the door was suddenly
lifted up, and a black head and part of a huge naked body protruded. It
was the head and upper part of the giant Tawno, who, according to the
fashion of gypsy men, lay next the door, wrapped in his blanket; the
blanket had, however, fallen off, and the starlight shone clear on his
athletic tawny body, and was reflected from his large staring eyes.
"It is only I, Tawno," said I, "going to fill the kettle, as it is
possible that Miss Berners may arrive this night." "Kos-ko," drawled out
Tawno, and replaced the curtain. "Good, do you call it?" said the sharp
voice of his wife; "there is no good in the matter; if that young chap
were not living with the rawnee in the illegal and uncertificated line,
he would not be getting up in the middle of the night to fill her
kettles." Passing on, I proceeded to the spring, where I filled the
kettle, and then returned to the dingle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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