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I have nothing to do with that man’s after life—he fulfilled his dukkeripen. ‘A bad, violent man!’ Softly, friend; when thou wouldst speak harshly of the dead, remember that thou hast not yet fulfilled thy own dukkeripen!
All day long he's p'raps bin a-flashin' his fins an' a-twiddlin' his tail round an' round the may-fly or the brandlin' worrum, though he knows all about the hook; but all at wonst comes the time o' the bitin', and that's the time o' the dukkeripen, when every fish in the brook, whether he's hungry or not, begins to bite, an' then up comes old red-spots, an' grabs at the bait because he must grab, an' swallows it because he must swallow it; an' there's a hend of old red-spots jist as sure as if he didn't know there wur a hook in the bait."
'Your dukkeripen will come true, said she; 'but mine won't, for I won't let it. 'And what is yours? I asked. 'That's nuther here nor there. Then she stood again as though listening to something, and again I thought, as her lips moved, that I heard her whisper, 'I will, I will.
'Then you feel quite sure she's not dead, Sinfi? 'She's jist as live as you an' me somewheres, brother. There's two things as keeps her alive: there's the cuss, as says she's got to beg her bread, and there's the dukkeripen o' the Golden Hand on Snowdon, as says she's got to marry you.
I said to myself the dukkeripen is strong, but a Romany chi may be stronger still if she keeps a-sayin' to herself "I WILL master it; I WILL, I WILL." 'Then that explains something I have often noticed, Sinfi. I have often seen your lips move and nothing has come from them but a whisper, "I will, I will, I will." 'Ah, you've noticed that, have you? Well then, now you know what it meant.
Sinfi's creed did not surprise me: the mixture of guile and simplicity in the Romany race is only understood by the few who know it thoroughly: the race whose profession it is to cheat by fortune-telling, to read the false 'dukkeripen' as being 'good enough for the Gorgios, believe profoundly in nature's symbols; but her bearing did surprise me.
I'm goin' to play on my crwth and sing the same song now. It's to draw her livin' mullo, as I did at Bettws and Beddgelert, so that the dukkeripen of the "Golden Hand" may come true. 'But how can it come true, Sinfi? I said. 'The dukkeripen allus does come true, whether it's good or whether it's bad. 'Not always, I said.
I restrained myself, and did not yield to the feeling that impelled me to throw my arms round her neck in an ecstasy of wonder and delight. After a second or two she again threw back her head to gaze at the golden cloud. 'Look! said she, suddenly clapping her hands, 'it's over both of us now. 'What is it? I said. 'The Dukkeripen, she said, 'the Golden Hand.
'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. At length she came towards me, and stared me full in the face.
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