“A great many indeed, brother. It is hard to see fine things, such as shawls, gold watches and chains in the shops, behind the big glasses, and to know that they are not intended for one. Many’s the time I have been tempted to make a dash at them; but I bethought myself that by so doing I should cut my hands, besides being almost certain of being grabbed and sent across the gull’s bath to the foreign country.” “Then you think gold and fine things temptations, Ursula?” “Of course, brother, very great temptations; don’t you think them so?” “Can’t say I do, Ursula.” “Then more fool you, brother; but have the kindness to tell me what you would call a temptation?” “Why, for example, the hope of honour and renown, Ursula.” “The hope of honour and renown! very good, brother; but I tell you one thing, that unless you have money in your pocket, and good broad-cloth on your back, you are not likely to obtain much honour and—what do you call it? amongst the gorgios, to say nothing of the Romany chals.” “I should have thought, Ursula, that the Romany chals, roaming about the world as they do, free and independent, were above being led by such trifles.” “Then you know nothing of the gypsies, brother; no people on earth are fonder of those trifles, as you call them, than the Romany chals, and more disposed to respect those who have them.” “Then money and fine clothes would induce you to anything, Ursula?” “Ay, ay, brother, anything.” “To chore, Ursula?” “Like enough, brother; gypsies have been transported before now for choring.” “To hokkawar?” “Ay, ay; I was telling dukkerin only yesterday, brother.” “In fact, to break the law in everything?” “Who knows, brother, who knows? As I said before, gold and fine clothes are great temptations.” “Well, Ursula, I am sorry for it, I should never have thought you so depraved.” “Indeed, brother.” “To think that I am seated by one who is willing to—to—” “Go on, brother.” “To play the thief!” “Go on, brother.” “The liar.” “Go on, brother.” “The—the—” “Go on, brother.” “The—the lubbeny.” “The what, brother?” said Ursula, starting from her seat. “Why, the lubbeny; don’t you—” “I tell you what, brother,” said Ursula, looking somewhat pale, and speaking very low, “if I had only something in my hand, I would do you a mischief.” “Why, what is the matter, Ursula?” said I; “how have I offended you?” “How have you offended me? Why, didn’t you insinivate just now that I was ready to play the—the—” “Go on, Ursula.” “The—the— I’ll not say it; but I only wish I had something in my hand.” “If I have offended, Ursula, I am very sorry for it; any offence I may have given you was from want of understanding you. Come, pray be seated, I have much to question you about—to talk to you about.” “Seated, not I! It was only just now that you gave me to understand that you was ashamed to be seated by me, a thief, a liar.” “Well, did you not almost give me to understand that you were both, Ursula?”