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

“Partly in triumph at having made them, and partly to show that I can do something besides making them; it is not everyone who, after having made a set of horseshoes, can keep them going up and down in the air, without letting one fall.”

“One has now fallen on your chin,” said Belle.

“And another on my cheek,” said I, getting up; “it is time to discontinue the game, for the last shoe drew blood.”

Belle went to her own little encampment; and as for myself, after having flung the donkey’s shoes into my tent, I put some fresh wood on the fire, which was nearly out, and hung the kettle over it. I then issued forth from the dingle, and strolled round the wood that surrounded it; for a long time I was busied in meditation, looking at the ground, striking with my foot, half unconsciously, the tufts of grass and thistles that I met in my way. After some time, I lifted up my eyes to the sky, at first vacantly, and then with more attention, turning my head in all directions for a minute or two; after which I returned to the dingle. Isopel was seated near the fire, over which the kettle was now hung; she had changed her dress⁠—no signs of the dust and fatigue of her late excursion remained; she had just added to the fire a small billet of wood, two or three of which I had left beside it; the fire cracked, and a sweet odour filled the dingle.

“I am fond of sitting by a wood fire,” said Belle, “when abroad, whether it be hot or cold; I love to see the flames dart out of the wood; but what kind is this, and where did you get it?”

“It is ash,” said I, “green ash. Somewhat less than a week ago, whilst I was wandering along the road by the side of a wood, I came to a place where some peasants were engaged in cutting up and clearing away a confused mass of fallen timber: a mighty-aged oak had given way the night before, and in its fall had shivered some smaller trees; the upper part of the oak, and the fragments of the rest, lay across the road. I purchased, for a trifle, a bundle or two, and the wood on the fire is part of it⁠—ash, green ash.”

“That makes good the old rhyme,” said Belle, “which I have heard sung by the old woman in the great house:⁠—

‘Ash, when green,
Is fire for a queen.’ ”

“And on fairer form of queen, ash fire never shone,” said I, “than on thine, O beauteous queen of the dingle.”

“I am half disposed to be angry with you, young man,” said Belle.

“And why not entirely?” said I.

Belle made no reply.

“Shall I tell you?” I demanded. “You had no objection to the first part of the speech, but you did not like being called queen of the dingle. Well, if I had the power, I would make you queen of something better than the dingle⁠—Queen of China. Come, let us have tea.”

“Something less would content me,” said Belle, sighing, as she rose to prepare our evening meal.

So we took tea together, Belle and I. “How delicious tea is after a hot summer’s day, and a long walk,” said she.

“I dare say it is most refreshing then,” said I; “but I have heard people say that they most enjoy it on a cold winter’s night, when the kettle is hissing on the fire, and their children playing on the hearth.”

Belle sighed. “Where does tea come from?” she presently demanded.

“From China,” said I; “I just now mentioned it, and the mention of it put me in mind of tea.”

“What kind of country is China?”

“I know very little about it; all I know is, that it is a very large country far to the East, but scarcely large enough to contain its inhabitants, who are so numerous, that though China does not cover one-ninth part of the world, its inhabitants amount to one-third of the population of the world.”

“And do they talk as we do?”

“Oh no! I know nothing of their language; but I have heard that it is quite different from all others, and so difficult that none but the cleverest people amongst foreigners can master it, on which account, perhaps, only the French pretend to know anything about it.”

“Are the French so very clever, then?” said Belle.

“They say there are no people like them, at least in Europe. But talking of Chinese reminds me that I have not for some time past given you a lesson in Armenian. The word for tea in Armenian is⁠—by the by, what is the Armenian word for tea?”

“That’s your affair, not mine,” said Belle; “it seems hard that the master should ask the scholar.”

“Well,” said I, “whatever the word may be in Armenian, it is a noun; and as we have never yet declined an Armenian noun together, we may as well take this opportunity of declining one. Belle, there are ten declensions in Armenian!”

“What’s a declension?”

“The way of declining a noun.”

“Then, in the civilest way imaginable, I decline the noun. Is that a declension?”

“You should never play on words; to do so is low vulgar, smelling of the pothouse, the workhouse. Belle, I insist on your declining an Armenian noun.”

“I have done so already,” said Belle.

“If you go on in this way,” said I, “I shall decline taking any more tea with you. Will you decline an Armenian noun?”

“I don’t like the language,” said Belle. “If you must teach me languages, why not teach me French or Chinese?”

“I know nothing of Chinese; and as for French, none but a Frenchman is clever enough to speak it⁠—to say nothing of teaching; no, we will stick to Armenian, unless, indeed, you would prefer Welsh!”

“Welsh, I have heard, is vulgar,” said Belle; “so, if I must learn one of the two, I will prefer Armenian, which