that the gypsy was about to speak, “we have had enough of nonsense; whenever I leave this hollow, it will be wearing my hair in my own fashion.”  “Come, wife,” said Mr. Petulengro, “we will no longer intrude upon the rye and rawnie, there is such a thing as being troublesome.”  Thereupon Mr. Petulengro and his wife took their leave, with many salutations.  “Then you are going?” said I, when Belle and I were left alone.  “Yes,” said Belle, “I am going on a journey; my affairs compel me.”  “But you will return again?” said I.  “Yes,” said Belle, “I shall return once more.”  “Once more,” said I; “what do you mean by once more?  The Petulengros will soon be gone, and will you abandon me in this place?” “You were alone here,” said Belle, “before I came, and, I suppose, found it agreeable, or you would not have stayed in it.”  “Yes,” said I, “that was before I knew you; but having lived with you here, I should be very loth to live here without you.”  “Indeed,” said Belle, “I did not know that I was of so much consequence to you.  Well, the day is wearing away—­I must go and harness Traveller to the cart.”  “I will do that,” said I, “or anything else you may wish me.  Go and prepare yourself; I will see after Traveller and the cart.”  Belle departed to her tent, and I set about performing the task I had undertaken.  In about half-an-hour Belle again made her appearance—­she was dressed neatly and plainly.  Her hair was no longer in the Roman fashion, in which Pakomovna had plaited it, but was secured by a comb; she held a bonnet in her hand.  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” I demanded.  “There are two or three bundles by my tent, which you can put into the cart,” said Belle.  I put the bundles into the cart, and then led Traveller and the cart up the winding path, to the mouth of the dingle, near which was Mr. Petulengro’s encampment.  Belle followed.  At the top, I delivered the reins into her hands; we looked at each other steadfastly for some time.  Belle then departed and I returned to the dingle, where, seating myself on my stone, I remained for upwards of an hour in thought.

CHAPTER XXIII.—­THE FESTIVAL—­THE GYPSY SONG—­PIRAMUS OF ROME—­THE SCOTCHMAN—­GYPSY NAMES.

On the following day there was much feasting amongst the Romany chals of Mr. Petulengro’s party.  Throughout the forenoon the Romany chies did scarcely anything but cook flesh, and the flesh which they cooked was swine’s flesh.  About two o’clock, the chals and chies dividing themselves into various parties, sat down and partook of the fare, which was partly roasted, partly sodden.  I dined that day with Mr. Petulengro and his wife and family, Ursula, Mr. and Mrs. Chikno, and Sylvester and his two children.  Sylvester, it will be as well to say, was a widower, and had consequently no one to cook his victuals for him, supposing he had any, which was not always the case, Sylvester’s affairs being seldom in a prosperous state.  He was noted for his bad success in trafficking, notwithstanding the many hints which he received from Jasper, under whose protection he had placed himself, even as Tawno Chikno had done, who himself, as the reader has heard on a former occasion, was anything but a wealthy subject, though he was at all times better off than Sylvester, the Lazarus of the Romany tribe.