Romano Lavo-Lil Part 40

Myself.--"Oh, then that house has been an inn?"

Woman.--"It still is an inn, and has always been an inn; and though it has such an eerie look it is sometimes lively enough, more especially after the Gypsies have returned from their summer excursions in the country. It's a roaring place then. They spend most of their sleight-o'-hand gains in that house."

Myself.--"Is the house still kept by a Faa?"

Woman.--"No, sir; there are no Faas to keep it. The name is clean dead in the land, though there is still some of the blood remaining."

Myself.--"I really should like to see some of the blood."

Woman.--"Weel, sir, you can do that without much difficulty; there are not many Gypsies just now in Kirk Yetholm; but the one who they say has more of his blood than any one else happens to be here. I mean his grandbairn--his daughter's daughter; she whom they ca' the 'Gypsy Queen o' Yetholm,' and whom they lead about the toon once a year, mounted on a cuddy, with a tin crown on her head, with much shouting, and with mony a barbaric ceremony."

Myself.--"I really should like to see her."

Woman.--"Weel, sir, there's a woman behind you, seated at the doorway, who can get your honour not only the sight of her, but the speech of her, for she is one of the race, and a relation of hers; and, to tell ye the truth, she has had her eye upon your honour for some time past, expecting to be asked about the qeeen, for scarcely anybody comes to Yetholm but goes to see the queen; and some gae so far as to say that they merely crowned her queen in hopes of bringing grist to the Gypsy mill."

I thanked the woman, and was about to turn away, in order to address myself to the other woman seated on the step, when my obliging friend said, "I beg your pardon, sir, but before ye go I wish to caution you, when you get to the speech of the queen, not to put any speerings to her about a certain tongue or dialect which they say the Gypsies have. All the Gypsies become glum and dour as soon as they are spoken to about their language, and particularly the queen. The queen might say something uncivil to your honour, should you ask her questions about her language."

Myself.--"Oh, then the Gypsies of Yetholm have a language of their own?"

Woman.--"I canna say, sir; I dinna ken whether they have or not; I have been at Yetholm several years, about my ain wee bit o' business, and never heard them utter a word that was not either English or broad Scotch. Some people say that they have a language of their ain, and others say that they have nane, and moreover that, though they call themselves Gypsies, they are far less Gypsy than Irish, a great deal of Irish being mixed in their veins with a very little of the much more respectable Gypsy blood. It may be sae, or it may be not; perhaps your honour will find out. That's the woman, sir, just behind ye at the door. Gud e'en. I maun noo gang and boil my cup o'tay."

To the woman at the door I now betook myself. She was seated on the threshold, and employed in knitting. She was dressed in white, and had a cap on her head, from which depended a couple of ribbons, one on each side. As I drew near she looked up. She had a full, round, smooth face, and her complexion was brown, or rather olive, a hue which contrasted with that of her eyes, which were blue.

"There is something Gypsy in that face," said I to myself, as I looked at her; "but I don't like those eyes."

"A fine evening," said I to her at last.

"Yes, sir," said the woman, with very little of the Scotch accent; "it is a fine evening. Come to see the town?"

"Yes," said I; "I am come to see the town. A nice little town it seems."

"And I suppose come to see the Gypsies, too," said the woman, with a half smile.

"Well," said I, "to be frank with you, I came to see the Gypsies.

You are not one, I suppose?"

"Indeed I am," said the woman, rather sharply, "and who shall say that I am not, seeing that I am a relation of old Will Faa, the man whom the woman from Haddington was speaking to you about; for I heard her mention his name?"

"Then," said I, "you must be related to her whom they call the Gypsy queen."

"I am, indeed, sir. Would you wish to see her?"

"By all means," said I. "I should wish very much to see the Gypsy queen."

"Then I will show you to her, sir; many gentlefolks from England come to see the Gypsy queen of Yetholm. Follow me, sir!"

She got up, and, without laying down her knitting-work, went round the corner, and began to ascend the hill. She was strongly made, and was rather above the middle height. She conducted me to a small house, some little way up the hill. As we were going, I said to her, "As you are a Gypsy, I suppose you have no objection to a coro of koshto levinor?" {7}

She stopped her knitting for a moment, and appeared to consider, and then resuming it, she said hesitatingly, "No, sir, no! None at all!

That is, not exactly!"

"She is no true Gypsy, after all," said I to myself.

We went through a little garden to the door of the house, which stood ajar. She pushed it open, and looked in; then, turning round, she said: "She is not here, sir; but she is close at hand. Wait here till I go and fetch her." She went to a house a little farther up the hill, and I presently saw her returning with another female, of slighter build, lower in stature, and apparently much older. She came towards me with much smiling, smirking, and nodding, which I returned with as much smiling and nodding as if I had known her for threescore years. She motioned me with her hand to enter the house.

I did so. The other woman returned down the hill, and the queen of the Gypsies entering, and shutting the door, confronted me on the floor, and said, in a rather musical, but slightly faltering voice:

"Now, sir, in what can I oblige you?"

Thereupon, letting the umbrella fall, which I invariably carry about with me in my journeyings, I flung my arms three times up into the air, and in an exceedingly disagreeable voice, owing to a cold which I had had for some time, and which I had caught amongst the lakes of Loughmaben, whilst hunting after Gypsies whom I could not find, I exclaimed:

"Sossi your nav? Pukker mande tute's nav! Shan tu a mumpli-mus.h.i.+, or a tatchi Romany?"

Which, interpreted into Gorgio, runs thus:

"What is your name? Tell me your name! Are you a mumping woman, or a true Gypsy?"

The woman appeared frightened, and for some time said nothing, but only stared at me. At length, recovering herself, she exclaimed, in an angry tone, "Why do you talk to me in that manner, and in that gibberish? I don't understand a word of it."

"Gibberis.h.!.+" said I; "it is no gibberish; it is Zingarrijib, Romany rokrapen, real Gypsy of the old order."

"Whatever it is," said the woman, "it's of no use speaking it to me.

If you want to speak to me, you must speak English or Scotch."

"Why, they told me as how you were a Gypsy," said I.

"And they told you the truth," said the woman; "I am a Gypsy, and a real one; I am not ashamed of my blood."

"If yer were a Gyptian," said I, "yer would be able to speak Gyptian; but yer can't, not a word."

"At any rate," said the woman, "I can speak English, which is more than you can. Why, your way of speaking is that of the lowest vagrants of the roads."

"Oh, I have two or three ways of speaking English," said I; "and when I speaks to low wagram folks, I speaks in a low wagram manner."

"Not very civil," said the woman.

"A pretty Gypsy!" said I; "why, I'll be bound you don't know what a churi is!"

The woman gave me a sharp look; but made no reply.

"A pretty queen of the Gypsies!" said I; "why, she doesn't know the meaning of churi!"

"Doesn't she?" said the woman, evidently nettled; "doesn't she?"

"Why, do you mean to say that you know the meaning of churi?"

"Why, of course I do," said the woman.

"Hardly, my good lady," said I; "hardly; a churi to you is merely a churi."