“You seem to care for so little, and yet you rove about a distinct race.”

“I say, brother!”

“Yes, Jasper.”

“What do you think of our women?”

“They have certainly very singular names, Jasper.”

“Names!  Lavengro!  However, brother, if you had been as fond of things as of names, you would never have been a pal of ours.”

“What do you mean, Jasper?”

“A’n’t they rum animals?”

“They have tongues of their own, Jasper.”

“Did you ever feel their teeth and nails, brother?”

“Never, Jasper, save Mrs. Herne’s.  I have always been very civil to them, so—­”

“They let you alone.  I say, brother, some part of the secret is in them.”

“They seem rather flighty, Jasper.”

“Ay, ay, brother!”

“Rather fond of loose discourse!”

“Rather so, brother.”

“Can you always trust them, Jasper?”

“We never watch them, brother.”

“Can they always trust you?”

“Not quite so well as we can them.  However, we get on very well together, except Mikailia and her husband; but Mikailia is a cripple, and is married to the beauty of the world, so she may be expected to be jealous—­though he would not part with her for a duchess, no more than I would part with my rawnie, nor any other chal with his.”

“Ay, but would not the chi part with the chal for a duke, Jasper?”

“My Pakomovna gave up the duke for me, brother.”

“But she occasionally talks of him, Jasper.”

“Yes, brother, but Pakomovna was born on a common not far from the sign of the gammon.”

“Gammon of bacon, I suppose.”

“Yes, brother; but gammon likewise means—­”

“I know it does, Jasper; it means fun, ridicule, jest; it is an ancient Norse word, and is found in the Edda.”

“Lor’, brother! how learned in lils you are!”

“Many words of Norse are to be found in our vulgar sayings, Jasper; for example—­in that particularly vulgar saying of ours, ’Your mother is up,’ there’s a noble Norse word; mother, there, meaning not the female who bore us, but rage and choler, as I discovered by reading the Sagas, Jasper.”

“Lor’, brother! how book-learned you be.”

“Indifferently so, Jasper.  Then you think you might trust your wife with the duke?”

“I think I could, brother, or even with yourself.”

“Myself, Jasper!  Oh, I never troubled my head about your wife; but I suppose there have been love affairs between gorgios and Romany chies.  Why, novels are stuffed with such matters; and then even one of your own songs says so—­the song which Ursula was singing the other afternoon.”

“That is somewhat of an old song, brother, and is sung by the chies as a warning at our solemn festivals.”

“Well! but there’s your sister-in-law, Ursula, herself, Jasper.”