Gipsy Mother—­She wants no one to provide for her, my London Caloro:  she can at any time provide for herself and her ro.  She can hokkawar, tell baji, and there are few to equal her at stealing a pastesas.  Were she once at Madrilati, where they tell me you are going, she would make much treasure; therefore take her thither, for in this foros she is nahi, as it were, for there is nothing to be gained:  but in the foros baro it would be another matter; she would go dressed in lachipe and sonacai, whilst you would ride about on your black-tailed gra; and when you had got much treasure, you might return hither and live like a Crallis, and all the Errate of the Chim del Manro should bow down their heads to you.  What say you, my London Caloro; what say you to my plan?

Myself—­Your plan is a plausible one, mother, or at least some people would think so; but I am, as you are aware, of another chim, and have no inclination to pass my life in this country.

Gipsy Mother—­Then return to your own country, my Caloro; the chabi can cross the pani.  Would she not do business in London with the rest of the Calore?  Or why not go to the land of the Corahai?  In which case I would accompany you; I and my daughter, the mother of the chabi.

Myself—­And what should we do in the land of the Corahai?  It is a poor and wild country, I believe.

Gipsy Mother—­The London Caloro asks me what we could do in the land of the Corahai! Aromali!  I almost think that I am speaking to a lilipendi.  Are there not horses to chore? Yes, I trow there are, and better ones than in this land, and asses, and mules.  In the land of the Corahai you must hokkawar and chore even as you must here, or in your own country, or else you are no Caloro.  Can you not join yourselves with the black people who live in the despoblados?  Yes, surely; and glad they would be to have among them the Errate from Spain and London.  I am seventy years of age, but I wish not to die in this chim, but yonder, far away, where both my roms are sleeping.  Take the chabi, therefore, and go to Madrilati to win the parne; and when you have got it, return, and we will give a banquet to all the Busne in Merida, and in their food I will mix drao, and they shall eat and burst like poisoned sheep....  And when they have eaten we will leave them, and away to the land of the Moor, my London Caloro.

During the whole time that I remained at Merida I stirred not once from the house; following the advice of Antonio, who informed me that it would not be convenient.  My time lay rather heavily on my hands, my only source of amusement consisting in the conversation of the women, and in that of Antonio when he made his appearance at night.  In these tertulias the grandmother was the principal spokeswoman, and astonished my ears with wonderful tales of the land of the Moors, prison escapes, thievish feats, and one or two poisoning adventures, in which she had been engaged, as she informed me, in her early youth.