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

its language, and, what was never done before, write it down Christianly⁠—must you? Take that⁠—and that;” and she stabbed violently with her stick towards the end of the tent.

“That’s right, bebee, you struck his face; now, once more, and let it be in the eye. Stay, what’s that? get up, bebee.”

“What’s the matter, child?”

“Someone is coming, come away.”

“Let me make sure of him, child; he’ll be up yet.” And thereupon Mrs. Herne, rising, leaned forward into the tent, and supporting herself against the pole, took aim in the direction of the farther end. “I will thrust out his eye,” said she; and, lunging with her stick, she would probably have accomplished her purpose had not at that moment the pole of the tent given way, whereupon she fell to the ground, the canvas falling upon her and her intended victim.

“Here’s a pretty affair, bebee,” screamed the girl.

“He’ll get up yet,” said Mrs. Herne, from beneath the canvas.

“Get up!⁠—get up yourself; where are you? where is your⁠—Here, there, bebee, here’s the door; there, make haste, they are coming.”

“He’ll get up yet,” said Mrs. Herne, recovering her breath; “the dook tells me so.”

“Never mind him or the dook; he is drabbed; come away, or we shall be grabbed⁠—both of us.”

“One more blow, I know where his head lies.”

“You are mad, bebee; leave the fellow⁠—gorgio avella.”

And thereupon the females hurried away.

A vehicle of some kind was evidently drawing nigh; in a little time it came alongside of the place where lay the fallen tent, and stopped suddenly. There was a silence for a moment, and then a parley ensued between two voices, one of which was that of a woman. It was not in English, but in a deep guttural tongue.

“Peth yw hono sydd yn gorwedd yna ar y ddaear?”191 said a masculine voice.

“Yn wirionedd⁠—I do not know what it can be,” said the female voice, in the same tongue.

“Here is a cart, and there are tools; but what is that on the ground?”

“Something moves beneath it; and what was that⁠—a groan?”

“Shall I get down?”

“Of course, Peter, someone may want your help.”

“Then I will get down, though I do not like this place, it is frequented by Egyptians, and I do not like their yellow faces, nor their clibberty clabber, as Master Ellis Wyn says. Now, I am down. It is a tent, Winifred, and see, here is a boy beneath it. Merciful father! what a face!”

A middle-aged man, with a strongly marked and serious countenance, dressed in sober-coloured habiliments, had lifted up the stifling folds of the tent and was bending over me. “Can you speak, my lad?” said he in English, “what is the matter with you? If you could but tell me, I could perhaps help you⁠—” “What is it that you say? I can’t hear you. I will kneel down;” and he flung himself on the ground, and placed his ear close to my mouth. “Now speak if you can. Hey! what! no, sure, God forbid!” then starting up, he cried to a female who sat in the cart, anxiously looking on⁠—“Gwenwyn! Gwenwyn! yw y gwas wedi ei gwenwynaw.192 The oil! Winifred, the oil!”

LXXII

The oil, which the strangers compelled me to take, produced the desired effect, though, during at least two hours, it was very doubtful whether or not my life would be saved. At the end of that period the man said, that with the blessing of God, he would answer for my life. He then demanded whether I thought I could bear to be removed from the place in which we were? “for I like it not,” he continued, “as something within me tells me that it is not good for any of us to be here.” I told him, as well as I was able, that I, too, should be glad to leave the place; whereupon, after collecting my things, he harnessed my pony, and, with the assistance of the woman, he contrived to place me in the cart; he then gave me a draught out of a small phial, and we set forward at a slow pace, the man walking by the side of the cart in which I lay. It is probable that the draught consisted of a strong opiate, for after swallowing it I fell into a deep slumber; on my awaking, I found that the shadows of night had enveloped the earth⁠—we were still moving on. Shortly, however, after descending a declivity, we turned into a lane, at the entrance of which was a gate. This lane conducted to a meadow, through the middle of which ran a small brook; it stood between two rising grounds, that on the left, which was on the farther side of the water, was covered with wood, whilst the one on the right, which was not so high, was crowned with the white walls of what appeared to be a farmhouse.

Advancing along the meadow, we presently came to a place where grew three immense oaks, almost on the side of the brook, over which they flung their arms, so as to shade it as with a canopy; the ground beneath was bare of grass, and nearly as hard and smooth as the floor of a barn. Having led his own cart on one side of the midmost tree, and my own on the other, the stranger said to me: “This is the spot where my wife and myself generally tarry in the summer season, when we come into these parts. We are about to pass the night here. I suppose you will have no objection to do the same? Indeed, I do not see what else you could do under present circumstances.” After receiving my answer, in which I, of course, expressed my readiness to assent to his proposal, he proceeded to unharness his horse, and, feeling myself much better, I got down, and