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Updated: June 5, 2025
You'll do well to go back to your Roumelian country or whatever it is. The lady will marry whom she likes." "She will never marry you," the Romany said huskily and menacingly. "I have never asked her, but if I do, and she said yes, no one could prevent it." "I would prevent it." "How?" "She is a Romany: she belongs to the Romany people; I will find a way." Ingolby had a flash of intuition.
He could be a servant to the pleasure of the man who was stealing from him the wife sealed to him in the Roumelian country. But perhaps it was all for the best yes, he would make it all for the best! As he left the shop, however, and passed down the street his mind remained in the barber-shop.
Therefore ! But Strether's narrator covered her implication with a laugh; a laugh by which his betrayal of a sense of the lurid in the picture was also perhaps sufficiently protected. He had a moment of wondering, while his friend went on, what sins might be especially Roumelian.
It would doubtless be difficult to-day, as between French and English, to name her and place her; she would certainly show, on knowledge, Miss Gostrey felt, as one of those convenient types who don't keep you explaining minds with doors as numerous as the many-tongued cluster of confessionals at Saint Peter's. You might confess to her with confidence in Roumelian, and even Roumelian sins.
Looking then at the daughter, he added: "On our Roumelian shore, up by Therapia, there is a summer house which once belonged to a learned Greek who was the happy possessor of a Homer written masterfully on stainless parchment. He had a saying that the book should be opened only in a palace specially built for it; and, being rich, he indulged the fancy.
What with shaking my head for "no" and the villagers naturally mistaking the motion for " yes," according to their own custom, I have quite an interesting time of it making them understand that I am not a mountebank travelling from one Roumelian village to another, living on two cents' worth of black sandy bread per diem, and giving performances for about three cents a time.
In the year 1457 an obscure Roumelian or Albanian renegado named Mahomedi was banished from Constantinople by the Grand Turk; he established himself in the island of Mitylene and there married a Christian widow named Catalina, by whom he had two sons, Uruj and Khizr. The father had been a sailor and both sons adopted the same profession.
I met one this morning carrying bales of something far bigger than himself, and a big Roumelian, whose feet actually came in contact with the ground occasionally, perched on his rump; the man looked quite capable of carrying both the donkey and his load.
"Do you think you can impress me by saying things like that?" "Why not? It's true. Wherever you went in all these years the memory of you kept calling me, my little 'rinkne rakli' my pretty little girl, made mine by the River Starzke over in the Roumelian country." "You heard what my father said "
A smart rain-storm drives me into an uninviting mehana near the Roumelian frontier, for two unhappy hours, at noon a mehana where the edible accommodations would wring an "Ugh" from an American Indian and the sole occupants are a blear-eyed Bulgarian, in twenty-year-old sheep-skin clothes, whose appearance plainly indicates an over-fondness for mastic, and an unhappy- looking black kitten.
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