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

“Ha!” said I, “was it you that cried danger? What danger is there?”

“Danger, brother, there is no danger; what danger should there be. I called to my little dog, but that was in the wood; my little dog’s name is not danger, but stranger; what danger should there be, brother?”

“What, indeed, except in sleeping beneath a tree; what is that you have got in your hand?”

“Something for you,” said the girl, sitting down and proceeding to untie a white napkin; “a pretty manricli, so sweet, so nice; when I went home to my people I told my grandbebee how kind you had been to the poor person’s child, and when my grandbebee saw the kekaubi, she said: ‘Hir mi devlis, it won’t do for the poor people to be ungrateful; by my God, I will bake a cake for the young harko mescro.’ ”

“But there are two cakes.”

“Yes, brother, two cakes, both for you; my grandbebee meant them both for you⁠—but list, brother, I will have one of them for bringing them. I know you will give me one, pretty brother, grey-haired brother⁠—which shall I have, brother?”

In the napkin were two round cakes, seemingly made of rich and costly compounds, and precisely similar in form, each weighing about half a pound.

“Which shall I have, brother?” said the gypsy girl.

“Whichever you please.”

“No, brother, no, the cakes are yours, not mine, it is for you to say.”

“Well, then, give me the one nearest you, and take the other.”

“Yes, brother, yes,” said the girl; and taking the cakes, she flung them into the air two or three times, catching them as they fell, and singing the while. “Pretty brother, grey-haired brother⁠—here, brother,” said she, “here is your cake, this other is mine.”

“Are you sure,” said I, taking the cake, “that this is the one I chose?”

“Quite sure, brother; but if you like you can have mine; there’s no difference; however⁠—shall I eat?”

“Yes, sister, eat.”

“See, brother, I do; now, brother, eat, pretty brother, grey-haired brother.”

“I am not hungry.”

“Not hungry! well, what then⁠—what has being hungry to do with the matter? It is my grandbebee’s cake which was sent because you were kind to the poor person’s child; eat, brother, eat, and we shall be like the children in the wood that the gorgios speak of.”

“The children in the wood had nothing to eat.”

“Yes, they had hips and haws; we have better. Eat, brother.”

“See, sister, I do,” and I ate a piece of the cake.

“Well, brother, how do you like it?” said the girl, looking fixedly at me.

“It is very rich and sweet, and yet there is something strange about it; I don’t think I shall eat any more.”

“Fie, brother, fie, to find fault with the poor person’s cake; see, I have nearly eaten mine.”

“That’s a pretty little dog.”

“Is it not, brother? that’s my juggal, my little sister, as I call her.”

“Come here, Juggal,” said I to the animal.

“What do you want with my juggal?” said the girl.

“Only to give her a piece of cake,” said I, offering the dog a piece which I had just broken off.

“What do you mean?” said the girl, snatching the dog away; “my grandbebee’s cake is not for dogs.”

“Why, I just now saw you give the animal a piece of yours.”

“You lie, brother, you saw no such thing; but I see how it is, you wish to affront the poor person’s child. I shall go to my house.”

“Keep still, and don’t be angry; see, I have eaten the piece which I offered the dog. I meant no offence. It is a sweet cake after all.”

“Isn’t it, brother? I am glad you like it. Offence! brother, no offence at all! I am so glad you like my grandbebee’s cake, but she will be wanting me at home. Eat one piece more of grandbebee’s cake and I will go.”

“I am not hungry, I will put the rest by.”

“One piece more before I go, handsome brother, grey-haired brother.”

“I will not eat any more, I have already eaten more than I wished to oblige you; if you must go, good day to you.”

The girl rose upon her feet, looked hard at me, then at the remainder of the cake which I held in my hand, and then at me again, and then stood for a moment or two, as if in deep thought; presently an air of satisfaction came over her countenance, she smiled and said: “Well, brother, well, do as you please; I merely wished you to eat because you have been so kind to the poor person’s child. She loves you so, that she could have wished to have seen you eat it all; goodbye, brother, I daresay when I am gone you will eat some more of it, and if you don’t I daresay you have eaten enough to⁠—to⁠—show your love for us. After all, it was a poor person’s cake, a Rommany manricli, and all you gorgios are somewhat gorgious. Farewell, brother, pretty brother, grey-haired brother. Come, juggal.”

I remained under the ash tree seated on the grass for a minute or two, and endeavoured to resume the occupation in which I had been engaged before I fell asleep, but I felt no inclination for labour. I then thought I would sleep again, and once more reclined against the tree, and slumbered for some little time, but my sleep was more agitated than before. Something appeared to bear heavy on my breast. I struggled in my sleep, fell on the grass, and awoke; my temples were throbbing, there was a burning in my eyes, and my mouth felt parched; the oppression about the chest which I had felt in my sleep still continued. “I must shake off these feelings,” said I, “and get upon my legs.” I walked rapidly up and down upon the green sward; at length, feeling my thirst increase, I directed my steps down the narrow