Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

Presently a man emerged from the tent, bearing before him a rather singular table; it appeared to be of white deal, was exceedingly small at the top, and with very long legs. At a few yards from the entrance he paused, and looked round, as if to decide on the direction which he should take; presently, his eye glancing on me as I lay upon the ground, he started, and appeared for a moment inclined to make off as quick as possible, table and all. In a moment, however, he seemed to recover assurance, and, coming up to the place where I was, the long legs of the table projecting before him, he cried: “Glad to see you here, my lord.”

“Thank you,” said I, “it’s a fine day.”

“Very fine, my lord; will your lordship play? Them that finds, wins⁠—them that don’t find, loses.”

“Play at what?” said I.

“Only at the thimble and pea, my lord.”

“I never heard of such a game.”

“Didn’t you? Well, I’ll soon teach you,” said he, placing the table down. “All you have to do is to put a sovereign down on my table, and to find the pea, which I put under one of my thimbles. If you find it⁠—and it is easy enough to find it⁠—I give you a sovereign besides your own: for them that finds, wins.”

“And them that don’t find, loses,” said I; “no, I don’t wish to play.”

“Why not, my lord?”

“Why, in the first place, I have no money.”

“Oh, you have no money; that of course alters the case. If you have no money, you can’t play. Well, I suppose I must be seeing after my customers,” said he, glancing over the plain.

“Good day,” said I.

“Good day,” said the man slowly, but without moving, and as if in reflection. After a moment or two, looking at me inquiringly, he added: “Out of employ?”

“Yes,” said I, “out of employ.”

The man measured me with his eye as I lay on the ground.

At length he said: “May I speak a word or two to you, my lord?”

“As many as you please,” said I.

“Then just come a little out of hearing, a little farther on the grass, if you please, my lord.”

“Why do you call me my lord?” said I, as I arose and followed him.

“We of the thimble always calls our customers lords,” said the man; “but I won’t call you such a foolish name any more; come along.”

The man walked along the plain till he came to the side of a dry pit, when looking round to see that no one was nigh, he laid his table on the grass, and, sitting down with his legs over the side of the pit, he motioned me to do the same. “So you are in want of employ,” said he, after I had sat down beside him.

“Yes,” said I, “I am very much in want of employ.”

“I think I can find you some.”

“What kind?” said I.

“Why,” said the man, “I think you would do to be my bonnet.”

“Bonnet!” said I, “what is that?”

“Don’t you know? However, no wonder, as you had never heard of the thimble-and-pea game, but I will tell you. We of the game are very much exposed; folks when they have lost their money, as those who play with us mostly do, sometimes uses rough language, calls us cheats, and sometimes knocks our hats over our eyes; and what’s more, with a kick under our table, cause the top deals to fly off; this is the third table I have used this day, the other two being broken by uncivil customers: so we of the game generally like to have gentlemen go about with us to take our part, and encourage us, though pretending to know nothing about us; for example, when the customer says, ‘I’m cheated,’ the bonnet must say, ‘No, you a’n’t, it is all right’; or, when my hat is knocked over my eyes, the bonnet must square, and say, ‘I never saw the man before in all my life, but I won’t see him ill-used’; and so, when they kicks at the table, the bonnet must say, ‘I won’t see the table ill-used, such a nice table, too; besides, I want to play myself;’ and then I would say to the bonnet, ‘Thank you, my lord, them that finds, wins’; and then the bonnet plays, and I lets the bonnet win.”

“In a word,” said I, “the bonnet means the man who covers you, even as the real bonnet covers the head.”

“Just so,” said the man, “I see you are awake, and would soon make a first-rate bonnet.”

“Bonnet,” said I, musingly; “bonnet; it is metaphorical.”

“Is it?” said the man.

“Yes,” said I, “like the cant words⁠—”

“Bonnet is cant,” said the man; “we of the thimble, as well as all clyfakers and the like, understand cant, as, of course, must every bonnet; so, if you are employed by me, you had better learn it as soon as you can, that we may discourse together without being understood by everyone. Besides covering his principal, a bonnet must have his eyes about him, for the trade of the pea, though a strictly honest one, is not altogether lawful; so it is the duty of the bonnet, if he sees the constable coming, to say, the gorgio’s welling.”

“That is not cant,” said I, “that is the language of the Rommany Chals.”

“Do you know those people?” said the man.

“Perfectly,” said I, “and their language too.”

“I wish I did,” said the man, “I would give ten pounds and more to know the language of the Rommany Chals. There’s some of it in the language of the pea and thimble; how it came there I don’t know, but so it is. I wish I knew it, but it is difficult. You’ll make a capital bonnet; shall we close?”

“What would the wages be?” I demanded.

“Why, to a first-rate bonnet, as I think you would prove, I could afford to give