The Romany Rye. Borrow George

mother, Mrs. Herne, told it me one day, brother, when she was in a good humour, which she very seldom was, as no one has a better right to know than yourself, as she hated you mortally: it was one day when you had been asking our company what was the word for a leaf, and nobody could tell you, that she took me aside and told me, for she was in a good humour, and triumphed in seeing you baulked. She told me the word for leaf was patteran, which our people use now for trail, having forgotten the true meaning. She said that the trail was called patteran, because the gypsies of old were in the habit of making the marks with the leaves and branches of trees, placed in a certain manner. She said that nobody knew it but herself, who was one of the old sort, and begged me never to tell the word to any one but him I should marry; and to be particularly cautious never to let you know it, whom she hated. Well, brother, perhaps I have done wrong to tell you; but, as I said before, I likes you, and am always ready to do your pleasure in words and conversation; my mother, moreover, is dead and gone, and, poor thing, will never know anything about the matter. So, when I married, I told my husband about the patteran, and we were in the habit of making our private trails with leaves and branches of trees, which none of the other gypsy people did; so, when I saw my husband’s patteran, I knew it at once, and I followed it upwards of two hundred miles towards the north; and then I came to a deep, awful-looking water, with an overhanging bank, and on the bank I found the patteran, which directed me to proceed along the bank towards the east, and I followed my husband’s patteran towards the east; and before I had gone half a mile, I came to a place where I saw the bank had given way, and fallen into the deep water. Without paying much heed, I passed on, and presently came to a public-house, not far from the water, and I entered the public-house to get a little beer, and perhaps to tell a dukkerin, for I saw a great many people about the door; and, when I entered, I found there was what they calls an inquest being held upon a body in that house, and the jury had just risen to go and look at the body; and being a woman, and having a curiosity, I thought I would go with them, and so I did; and no sooner did I see the body, than I knew it to be my husband’s; it was much swelled and altered, but I knew it partly by the clothes, and partly by a mark on the forehead, and I cried out, ‘It is my husband’s body,’ and I fell down in a fit, and the fit that time, brother, was not a seeming one.”

      “Dear me,” said I, “how terrible! But tell me, Ursula, how did your husband come by his death?”

      “The bank, overhanging the deep water, gave way under him, brother, and he was drowned; for, like most of our people, he could not swim, or only a little. The body, after it had been in the water a long time, came up of itself, and was found floating. Well, brother, when the people of the neighbourhood found that I was the wife of the drowned man, they were very kind to me, and made a subscription for me, with which, after having seen my husband buried, I returned the way I had come, till I met Jasper and his people, and with them I have travelled ever since: I was very melancholy for a long time, I assure you, brother; for the death of my husband preyed very much upon my mind.”

      “His death was certainly a very shocking one, Ursula; but, really, if he had died a natural one, you could scarcely have regretted it, for he appears to have treated you barbarously.”

      “Women must bear, brother; and, barring that he kicked and beat me, and drove me out to tell dukkerin when I could scarcely stand, he was not a bad husband. A man, by gypsy law, brother, is allowed to kick and beat his wife, and to bury her alive if he thinks proper. I am a gypsy, and have nothing to say against the law.”

      “But what has Mikailia Chikno to say about it?”

      “She is a cripple, brother, the only cripple amongst the Roman people: so she is allowed to do and say as she pleases. Moreover, her husband does not think fit to kick or beat her, though it is my opinion she would like him all the better if he were occasionally to do so, and threaten to bury her alive; at any rate, she would treat him better, and respect him more.”

      “Your sister does not seem to stand much in awe of Jasper Petulengro, Ursula.”

      “Let the matters of my sister and Jasper Petulengro alone, brother; you must travel in their company some time before you can understand them; they are a strange two, up to all kind of chaffing; but two more regular Romans don’t breathe, and I’ll tell you, for your instruction, that there isn’t a better mare-breaker in England than Jasper Petulengro; if you can manage Miss Isopel Berners as well as—”

      “Isopel Berners,” said I, “how came you to think of her?”

      “How should I but think of her, brother, living as she does with you in Mumpers’ Dingle, and travelling about with you; you will have, brother, more difficulty to manage her, than Jasper has to manage my sister Pakomovna. I should have mentioned her before, only I wanted to know what you had to say to me; and when we got into discourse, I forgot her. I say, brother, let me tell you your dukkerin, with respect to her, you will never—”

      “I want to hear no dukkerin, Ursula.”

      “Do let me tell you your dukkerin, brother, you will never manage—”

      “I want to hear no dukkerin, Ursula, in connection with Isopel Berners. Moreover, it is Sunday, we will change the subject; it is surprising to me that after all you have undergone, you should look so beautiful. I suppose you do not think of marrying again, Ursula?”

      “No, brother, one husband at a time is quite enough for any reasonable mort; especially such a good husband as I have got.”

      “Such a good husband! why, I thought you told me your husband was drowned?”

      “Yes, brother, my first husband was.”

      “And have you a second?”

      “To be sure, brother.”

      “And who is he? in the name of wonder.”

      “Who is he? why Sylvester, to be sure.”

      “I do assure you, Ursula, that I feel disposed to be angry with you; such a handsome young woman as yourself to take up with such a nasty pepper-faced good for nothing—”

      “I won’t hear my husband abused, brother; so you had better say no more.”

      “Why, is he not the Lazarus of the gypsies? has he a penny of his own, Ursula?”

      “Then the more his want, brother, of a clever chi like me to take care of him and his childer. I tell you what, brother, I will chore, if necessary, and tell dukkerin for Sylvester, if even so heavy as scarcely to be able to stand. You call him lazy; you would not think him lazy if you were in a ring with him: he is a proper man with his hands; Jasper is going to back him for twenty pounds against Slammocks of the Chong gav, the brother of Roarer and Bell-metal, he says he has no doubt that he will win.”

      “Well, if you like him, I, of course, can have no objection. Have you been long married?”

      “About a fortnight, brother; that dinner, the other day, when I sang the song, was given in celebration of the wedding.”

      “Were you married in a church, Ursula?”

      “We were not, brother; none but gorgios, cripples and lubbenys are ever married in a church: we took each other’s words. Brother, I have been with you near three hours beneath this hedge. I will go to my husband.”

      “Does he know that you are here?”

      “He does, brother.”

      “And is he satisfied?”

      “Satisfied! of course. Lor’, you gorgios! Brother, I go to my husband and my house.” And, thereupon, Ursula rose and departed.

      After waiting a little time I also arose; it was now dark, and I thought I could do no better than betake myself to the dingle; at the entrance of it I found Mr. Petulengro. “Well, brother,” said he, “what kind of conversation have you and Ursula had beneath the hedge?”

      “If you wished to hear what we were talking about, you should have come and sat down beside us; you knew where we