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Red money you have gained, my daring sister, for the blood of a Romany chal has changed the color. But I'm no " How long she would have continued to rage at Lady Agnes it is impossible to say, for the invalid, with the artificial strength of furious anger, sprang from his chair to turn her out of the room. Chaldea dodged him in the alert way of a wild animal.
‘The Rommany chi And the Rommany chal, Love Luripen And dukkeripen, And hokkeripen, And every pen But Lachipen And tatchipen.’ The girl, who had given a slight start when I began, remained for some time after I had concluded the song standing motionless as a statue, with the kettle in her hand.
It narrates his earliest dreams and feelings, dwells with minuteness on the ways, words, and characters of his father, mother, and brother, lingers on the occasional resting-places of his wandering half military childhood, describes the gradual hardening of his bodily frame by robust exercises, his successive struggles, after his family and himself have settled down in a small local capital, to obtain knowledge of every kind, but more particularly philological lore; his visits to the tent of the Romany chal, and the parlour of the Anglo- German philosopher; the effect produced upon his character by his flinging himself into contact with people all widely differing from each other, but all extraordinary; his reluctance to settle down to the ordinary pursuits of life; his struggles after moral truth; his glimpses of God and the obscuration of the Divine Being, to his mind's eye; and his being cast upon the world of London by the death of his father, at the age of nineteen.
Every land shall be ours; every gift of paradise within our reach riches, power, children. Come back to your own people; be a true daughter of the Ry of Rys; live with your Romany chal. You will never be at home anywhere else. It's in your bones; it's in your blood; it's deeper than all. Here, now, come to me my wife."
Halt in that squalid lane which looks out upon the traffic of one of the most crowded thoroughfares and listen, if you will, for some sign of life in the dark, ungarnished house which towers above you. All is hushed in silence; no voice, no cry from within reaches the ear; the chal must be tenanted only by the shadows. Not so!
Your tongue was not still from sunrise to the end of the day. Your call was heard always, now here, now there, and the Romanys were one; they held together." The old man's face darkened still more and his eyes flashed fire. "These are lies you are telling, and they will choke you, my Romany 'chal'. Am I deceived, I who have known more liars than any man under the sky?
"I have a lot of things I could do without." "Could you do without the Sarasate?" "Long enough to hear you play it, Mr. what is your name, may I ask?" "My name is Jethro Fawe." "Well, Jethro Fawe, my Romany 'chal', you shall show me what a violin can do." "You know the Romany lingo?" Jethro asked, as Ingolby went over to the violin-case. "A little just a little." "When did you learn it?"
'Why, not exactly, Jasper; the cuckoo is a pleasant, funny bird, and its presence and voice give a great charm to the green trees and fields; no, I can't say I wish exactly to get rid of the cuckoo. 'Well, brother, what's a Rommany chal? 'You must answer that question yourself, Jasper. 'A roguish, chaffing, fellow; ain't he, brother? 'Ay, ay, Jasper. 'Of no use at all, brother?
A fish-basket filled with bunches of lilies, mignonette, deep pink moss-roses shaded to the pale tints of the rose known as the Baroness de Rothschild, with a glowing centre of warm red Jacqueminots and a fringe of purple pansies and Mar,chal Niels, was one of many beautiful floral ornaments on a magnificent dinner- table.
‘Yes, stands to you in the place of a father—keeps you out of harm’s way.’ ‘What do you take me for, brother?’ ‘For about three years older than myself.’ ‘Perhaps; but you are of the Gorgios, and I am a Rommany Chal. Tawno Chikno take care of Jasper Petulengro!’ ‘Is that your name?’ ‘Don’t you like it?’ ‘Very much, I never heard a sweeter; it is something like what you call me.’
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