The Romany Rye: A Sequel to 'Lavengro' — John Shaqi
The Romany Rye: A Sequel to 'Lavengro'Borrow, George
General
The Romany Rye: A Sequel to 'Lavengro'
Borrow, George
Adventure stories; England -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
filled it at the spring. Having hung it over the fire, I went to the
tent in which the postillion was still sleeping, and called upon him to
arise. He awoke with a start, and stared around him at first with the
utmost surprise, not unmixed, I could observe, with a certain degree of
fear. At last, looking in my face, he appeared to recollect himself. 'I
had quite forgot,' said he, as he got up, 'where I was, and all that
happened yesterday. However, I remember now the whole
affair--thunder-storm, thunder-bolt, frightened horses, and all your
kindness. Come, I must see after my coach and horses. I hope we shall
be able to repair the damage.' 'The damage is already quite repaired,'
said I, 'as you will see, if you come to the field above.' 'You don't
say so,' said the postillion, coming out of the tent; 'well, I am
mightily beholden to you. Good morning, young gentlewoman,' said he,
addressing Belle, who, having finished her preparations, was seated near
the fire. 'Good-morning, young man,' said Belle, 'I suppose you would be
glad of some breakfast; however, you must wait a little, the kettle does
not boil.' 'Come and look at your chaise,' said I; 'but tell me how it
happened that the noise which I have been making did not awake you; for
three-quarters of an hour at least I was hammering close at your ear.'
'I heard you all the time,' said the postillion, 'but your hammering made
me sleep all the sounder; I am used to hear hammering in my morning
sleep. There's a forge close by the room where I sleep when I'm at home,
at my inn; for we have all kinds of conveniences at my inn--forge,
carpenter's shop, and wheelwright's--so that when I heard you hammering,
I thought, no doubt, that it was the old noise, and that I was
comfortable in my bed at my own inn.' We now ascended to the field,
where I showed the postillion his chaise. He looked at the pin
attentively, rubbed his hands, and gave a loud laugh. 'Is it not well
done?' said I. 'It will do till I get home,' he replied. 'And that is
all you have to say?' I demanded. 'And that's a good deal,' said he,
'considering who made it. But don't be offended,' he added, 'I shall
prize it all the more for its being made by a gentleman, and no
blacksmith; and so will my governor, when I show it to him. I shan't let
it remain where it is, but will keep it, as a remembrance of you, as long
as I live.' He then again rubbed his hands with great glee, and said, 'I
will now go and see after my horses, and then to breakfast, partner, if
you please.' Suddenly, however, looking at his hands, he said, 'Before
sitting down to breakfast, I am in the habit of washing my hands and
face: I suppose you could not furnish me with a little soap and water.'
'As much water as you please,' said I, 'but if you want soap, I must go
and trouble the young gentlewoman for some.' 'By no means,' said the
postillion, 'water will do at a pinch.' 'Follow me,' said I, and leading
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