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

I never heard of till you mentioned it to me; though of the two, I really think Welsh sounds best.”

“The Armenian noun,” said I, “which I propose for your declension this night, is ⸻ which signifieth Master.”215

“I neither like the word nor the sound,” said Belle.

“I can’t help that,” said I; “it is the word I choose; Master, with all its variations, being the first noun, the sound of which I would have you learn from my lips. Come, let us begin⁠—

“A master⁠ ⁠… Of a master, etc. Repeat⁠—”

“I am not much used to say the word,” said Belle. “But, to oblige you, I will decline it as you wish;” and thereupon Belle declined master in Armenian.

“You have declined the noun very well,” said I; “that is in the singular number; we will now go to the plural.”

“What is the plural?” said Belle.

“That which implies more than one, for example, masters; you shall now go through masters in Armenian.”

“Never,” said Belle, “never; it is bad to have one master, but more I would never bear, whether in Armenian or English.”

“You do not understand,” said I; “I merely want you to decline masters in Armenian.”

“I do decline them; I will have nothing to do with them, nor with master either; I was wrong to⁠—What sound is that?”

“I did not hear it, but I daresay it is thunder; in Armenian⁠—”

“Never mind what it is in Armenian; but why do you think it is thunder?”

“Ere I returned from my stroll, I looked up into the heavens, and by their appearance I judged that a storm was nigh at hand.”

“And why did you not tell me so?”

“You never asked me about the state of the atmosphere, and I am not in the habit of giving my opinion to people on any subject, unless questioned. But, setting that aside, can you blame me for not troubling you with forebodings about storm and tempest, which might have prevented the pleasure you promised yourself in drinking tea, or perhaps a lesson in Armenian, though you pretend to dislike the latter.”

“My dislike is not pretended,” said Belle; “I hate the sound of it, but I love my tea, and it was kind of you not to wish to cast a cloud over my little pleasures; the thunder came quite time enough to interrupt it without being anticipated⁠—there is another peal⁠—I will clear away, and see that my tent is in a condition to resist the storm, and I think you had better bestir yourself.”

Isopel departed, and I remained seated on my stone, as nothing belonging to myself required any particular attention; in about a quarter of an hour she returned, and seated herself upon her stool.

“How dark the place is become since I left you,” said she; “just as if night were just at hand.”

“Look up at the sky,” said I, “and you will not wonder; it is all of a deep olive. The wind is beginning to rise; hark how it moans among the branches; and see how their tops are bending⁠—it brings dust on its wings⁠—I felt some fall on my face; and what is this, a drop of rain?”

“We shall have plenty anon,” said Belle; “do you hear? it already begins to hiss upon the embers; that fire of ours will soon be extinguished.”

“It is not probable that we shall want it,” said I, “but we had better seek shelter; let us go into my tent.”

“Go in,” said Belle, “but you go in alone; as for me, I will seek my own.”

“You are right,” said I, “to be afraid of me; I have taught you to decline master in Armenian.”

“You almost tempt me,” said Belle, “to make you decline mistress in English.”

“To make matters short,” said I, “I decline a mistress.”

“What do you mean?” said Belle angrily.

“I have merely done what you wished me,” said I, “and in your own style; there is no other way of declining anything in English, for in English there are no declensions.”

“The rain is increasing,” said Belle.

“It is so,” said I; “I shall go to my tent; you may come, if you please; I do assure you I am not afraid of you.”

“Nor I of you,” said Belle; “so I will come. Why should I be afraid? I can take my own part; that is⁠—”

We went into the tent and sat down, and now the rain began to pour with vehemence. “I hope we shall not be flooded in this hollow,” said I to Belle. “There is no fear of that,” said Belle: “the wandering people, amongst other names, call it the dry hollow. I believe there is a passage somewhere or other by which the wet is carried off. There must be a cloud right above us, it is so dark. Oh! what a flash!”

“And what a peal,” said I; “that is what the Hebrews call Koul Adonai216⁠—the voice of the Lord. Are you afraid?”

“No,” said Belle, “I rather like to hear it.”

“You are right,” said I; “I am fond of the sound of thunder myself. There is nothing like it; Koul Adonai behadar; the voice of the Lord is a glorious voice, as the prayerbook version hath it.”

“There is something awful in it,” said Belle; “and then the lightning, the whole dingle is now in a blaze.”

“ ‘The voice of the Lord maketh the hinds to calve, and discovereth the thick bushes.’ As you say, there is something awful in thunder.”

“There are all kinds of noises above us,” said Belle; “surely I heard the crashing of a tree?”

“ ‘The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedar trees,’ ” said I, “but what you hear is caused by a convulsion of the air; during a thunderstorm there are occasionally all kinds of aerial noises. Ab Gwilym, who, next to King David, has best described a thunderstorm, speaks of these aerial noises in the following manner:⁠—

‘Astonied now I stand at strains,
As of ten thousand clanking chains;
And once, methought, that overthrown,
The welkin’s