And a hairy one she looked!She wore her hair clubbed upon her head,fastened with many strings and ligatures;but now,tearing these off,her locks,originally jet black,but now partially grizzled with age,fell down on every side of her,covering her face and back as far down as her knees.No she-bear of Lapland ever looked more fierce and hairy than did that woman,as standing in the open part of the tent,with her head bent down,and her shoulders drawn up,seemingly about to precipitate herself upon me,she repeated,again and again,-'My name is Herne,and I comes of the hairy ones!-'
'I call God Duvel,brother.'
'It sounds very like Devil.'
'It doth,brother,it doth.'
'And what do you call divine,I mean godly?'
'Oh!I call that duvelskoe.'
'I am thinking of something,Jasper.'
'What are you thinking of,brother?'
'Would it not be a rum thing if divine and devilish were originally one and the same word?'
'It would,brother,it would-'
...
From this time I had frequent interviews with Jasper,sometimes in his tent,sometimes on the heath,about which we would roam for hours,discoursing on various matters.Sometimes,mounted on one of his horses,of which he had several,I would accompany him to various fairs and markets in the neighbourhood,to which he went on his own affairs,or those of his tribe.I soon found that I had become acquainted with a most singular people,whose habits and pursuits awakened within me the highest interest.Of all connected with them,however,their language was doubtless that which exercised the greatest influence over my imagination.I had at first some suspicion that it would prove a mere made-up gibberish;but I was soon undeceived.Broken,corrupted,and half in ruins as it was,it was not long before I found that it was an original speech,far more so,indeed,than one or two others of high name and celebrity,which,up to that time,I had been in the habit of regarding with respect and veneration.Indeed many obscure points connected with the vocabulary of these languages,and to which neither classic nor modern lore afforded any clue,I thought I could now clear up by means of this strange broken tongue,spoken by people who dwelt amongst thickets and furze bushes,in tents as tawny as their faces,and whom the generality of mankind designated,and with much semblance of justice,as thieves and vagabonds.But where did this speech come from,and who were they who spoke it?These were questions which I could not solve,and which Jasper himself,when pressed,confessed his inability to answer.'But,whoever we be,brother,'said he,'we are an old people,and not what folks in general imagine,broken gorgios;and,if we are not Egyptians,we are at any rate Rommany Chals!'
'Rommany Chals!I should not wonder after all,'said I,'that these people had something to do with the founding of Rome.Rome,it is said,was built by vagabonds,who knows but that some tribe of the kind settled down thereabouts,and called the town which they built after their name;but whence did they come originally? ah!there is the difficulty.'
But abandoning these questions,which at that time were far too profound for me,I went on studying the language,and at the same time the characters and manners of these strange people.My rapid progress in the former astonished,while it delighted,Jasper.
'We'll no longer call you Sap-engro,brother,'said he;but rather Lav-engro,which in the language of the gorgios meaneth Word-master.''Nay,brother,'said Tawno Chikno,with whom I had become very intimate,'you had better call him Cooro-mengro,I have put on THE GLOVES with him,and find him a pure fist-master;I like him for that,for I am a Cooro-mengro myself,and was born at Brummagem.'
'I likes him for his modesty,'said Mrs.Chikno;'I never hears any ill words come from his mouth,but,on the contrary,much sweet language.His talk is golden,and he has taught my eldest to say his prayers in Rommany,which my rover had never the grace to do.'
'He is the pal of my rom,'said Mrs.Petulengro,who was a very handsome woman,'and therefore I likes him,and not the less for his being a rye;folks calls me high-minded,and perhaps I have reason to be so;before I married Pharaoh I had an offer from a lord-I likes the young rye,and,if he chooses to follow us,he shall have my sister.What say you,mother?should not the young rye have my sister Ursula?'
'I am going to my people,'said Mrs.Herne,placing a bundle upon a donkey,which was her own peculiar property;'I am going to Yorkshire,for I can stand this no longer.You say you like him: in that we differs;I hates the gorgio,and would like,speaking Romanly,to mix a little poison with his waters.And now go to Lundra,my children,I goes to Yorkshire.Take my blessing with ye,and a little bit of a gillie to cheer your hearts with when ye are weary.In all kinds of weather have we lived together;but now we are parted.I goes broken-hearted-I can't keep you company;ye are no longer Rommany.To gain a bad brother,ye have lost a good mother.'
