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diff --git a/old/2465-h.htm.2021-01-27 b/old/2465-h.htm.2021-01-27 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92c17ff --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2465-h.htm.2021-01-27 @@ -0,0 +1,3287 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Carmen, by Prosper Merimee + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Carmen, by Prosper Merimee + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Carmen + +Author: Prosper Merimee + +Translator: Lady Mary Loyd + +Release Date: March 28, 2006 [EBook #2465] +Last Updated: October 25, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARMEN *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + CARMEN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Prosper Merimee + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Lady Mary Loyd + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + I had always suspected the geographical authorities did not know what they + were talking about when they located the battlefield of Munda in the + county of the Bastuli-Poeni, close to the modern Monda, some two leagues + north of Marbella. + </p> + <p> + According to my own surmise, founded on the text of the anonymous author + of the <i>Bellum Hispaniense</i>, and on certain information culled from + the excellent library owned by the Duke of Ossuna, I believed the site of + the memorable struggle in which Caesar played double or quits, once and + for all, with the champions of the Republic, should be sought in the + neighbourhood of Montilla. + </p> + <p> + Happening to be in Andalusia during the autumn of 1830, I made a somewhat + lengthy excursion, with the object of clearing up certain doubts which + still oppressed me. A paper which I shall shortly publish will, I trust, + remove any hesitation that may still exist in the minds of all honest + archaeologists. But before that dissertation of mine finally settles the + geographical problem on the solution of which the whole of learned Europe + hangs, I desire to relate a little tale. It will do no prejudice to the + interesting question of the correct locality of Monda. + </p> + <p> + I had hired a guide and a couple of horses at Cordova, and had started on + my way with no luggage save a few shirts, and Caesar’s <i>Commentaries</i>. + As I wandered, one day, across the higher lands of the Cachena plain, worn + with fatigue, parched with thirst, scorched by a burning sun, cursing + Caesar and Pompey’s sons alike, most heartily, my eye lighted, at some + distance from the path I was following, on a little stretch of green sward + dotted with reeds and rushes. That betokened the neighbourhood of some + spring, and, indeed, as I drew nearer I perceived that what had looked + like sward was a marsh, into which a stream, which seemed to issue from a + narrow gorge between two high spurs of the Sierra di Cabra, ran and + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + If I rode up that stream, I argued, I was likely to find cooler water, + fewer leeches and frogs, and mayhap a little shade among the rocks. + </p> + <p> + At the mouth of the gorge, my horse neighed, and another horse, invisible + to me, neighed back. Before I had advanced a hundred paces, the gorge + suddenly widened, and I beheld a sort of natural amphitheatre, thoroughly + shaded by the steep cliffs that lay all around it. It was impossible to + imagine any more delightful halting place for a traveller. At the foot of + the precipitous rocks, the stream bubbled upward and fell into a little + basin, lined with sand that was as white as snow. Five or six splendid + evergreen oaks, sheltered from the wind, and cooled by the spring, grew + beside the pool, and shaded it with their thick foliage. And round about + it a close and glossy turf offered the wanderer a better bed than he could + have found in any hostelry for ten leagues round. + </p> + <p> + The honour of discovering this fair spot did not belong to me. A man was + resting there already—sleeping, no doubt—before I reached it. + Roused by the neighing of the horses, he had risen to his feet and had + moved over to his mount, which had been taking advantage of its master’s + slumbers to make a hearty feed on the grass that grew around. He was an + active young fellow, of middle height, but powerful in build, and proud + and sullen-looking in expression. His complexion, which may once have been + fine, had been tanned by the sun till it was darker than his hair. One of + his hands grasped his horse’s halter. In the other he held a brass + blunderbuss. + </p> + <p> + At the first blush, I confess, the blunderbuss, and the savage looks of + the man who bore it, somewhat took me aback. But I had heard so much about + robbers, that, never seeing any, I had ceased to believe in their + existence. And further, I had seen so many honest farmers arm themselves + to the teeth before they went out to market, that the sight of firearms + gave me no warrant for doubting the character of any stranger. “And then,” + quoth I to myself, “what could he do with my shirts and my Elzevir edition + of Caesar’s <i>Commentaries</i>?” So I bestowed a friendly nod on the man + with the blunderbuss, and inquired, with a smile, whether I had disturbed + his nap. Without any answer, he looked me over from head to foot. Then, as + if the scrutiny had satisfied him, he looked as closely at my guide, who + was just coming up. I saw the guide turn pale, and pull up with an air of + evident alarm. “An unlucky meeting!” thought I to myself. But prudence + instantly counselled me not to let any symptom of anxiety escape me. So I + dismounted. I told the guide to take off the horses’ bridles, and kneeling + down beside the spring, I laved my head and hands and then drank a long + draught, lying flat on my belly, like Gideon’s soldiers. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, I watched the stranger, and my own guide. This last seemed to + come forward unwillingly. But the other did not appear to have any evil + designs upon us. For he had turned his horse loose, and the blunderbuss, + which he had been holding horizontally, was now dropped earthward. + </p> + <p> + Not thinking it necessary to take offence at the scant attention paid me, + I stretched myself full length upon the grass, and calmly asked the owner + of the blunderbuss whether he had a light about him. At the same time I + pulled out my cigar-case. The stranger, still without opening his lips, + took out his flint, and lost no time in getting me a light. He was + evidently growing tamer, for he sat down opposite to me, though he still + grasped his weapon. When I had lighted my cigar, I chose out the best I + had left, and asked him whether he smoked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, senor,” he replied. These were the first words I had heard him + speak, and I noticed that he did not pronounce the letter <i>s</i>* in the + Andalusian fashion, whence I concluded he was a traveller, like myself, + though, maybe, somewhat less of an archaeologist. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The Andalusians aspirate the <i>s</i>, and pronounce it like + the soft <i>c</i> and the <i>z</i>, which Spaniards pronounce like the + English <i>th</i>. An Andalusian may always be recognised by the + way in which he says <i>senor</i>. +</pre> + <p> + “You’ll find this a fairly good one,” said I, holding out a real Havana + regalia. + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head slightly, lighted his cigar at mine, thanked me with + another nod, and began to smoke with a most lively appearance of + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed, as he blew his first puff of smoke slowly out of his + ears and nostrils. “What a time it is since I’ve had a smoke!” + </p> + <p> + In Spain the giving and accepting of a cigar establishes bonds of + hospitality similar to those founded in Eastern countries on the partaking + of bread and salt. My friend turned out more talkative than I had hoped. + However, though he claimed to belong to the <i>partido</i> of Montilla, he + seemed very ill-informed about the country. He did not know the name of + the delightful valley in which we were sitting, he could not tell me the + names of any of the neighbouring villages, and when I inquired whether he + had not noticed any broken-down walls, broad-rimmed tiles, or carved + stones in the vicinity, he confessed he had never paid any heed to such + matters. On the other hand, he showed himself an expert in horseflesh, + found fault with my mount—not a difficult affair—and gave me a + pedigree of his own, which had come from the famous stud at Cordova. It + was a splendid creature, indeed, so tough, according to its owner’s claim, + that it had once covered thirty leagues in one day, either at the gallop + or at full trot the whole time. In the midst of his story the stranger + pulled up short, as if startled and sorry he had said so much. “The fact + is I was in a great hurry to get to Cordova,” he went on, somewhat + embarrassed. “I had to petition the judges about a lawsuit.” As he spoke, + he looked at my guide Antonio, who had dropped his eyes. + </p> + <p> + The spring and the cool shade were so delightful that I bethought me of + certain slices of an excellent ham, which my friends at Montilla had + packed into my guide’s wallet. I bade him produce them, and invited the + stranger to share our impromptu lunch. If he had not smoked for a long + time, he certainly struck me as having fasted for eight-and-forty hours at + the very least. He ate like a starving wolf, and I thought to myself that + my appearance must really have been quite providential for the poor + fellow. Meanwhile my guide ate but little, drank still less, and spoke + never a word, although in the earlier part of our journey he had proved + himself a most unrivalled chatterer. He seemed ill at ease in the presence + of our guest, and a sort of mutual distrust, the cause of which I could + not exactly fathom, seemed to be between them. + </p> + <p> + The last crumbs of bread and scraps of ham had disappeared. We had each + smoked our second cigar; I told the guide to bridle the horses, and was + just about to take leave of my new friend, when he inquired where I was + going to spend the night. + </p> + <p> + Before I had time to notice a sign my guide was making to me I had replied + that I was going to the Venta del Cuervo. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a bad lodging for a gentleman like you, sir! I’m bound there + myself, and if you’ll allow me to ride with you, we’ll go together.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure!” I replied, mounting my horse. The guide, who was holding + my stirrup, looked at me meaningly again. I answered by shrugging my + shoulders, as though to assure him I was perfectly easy in my mind, and we + started on our way. + </p> + <p> + Antonio’s mysterious signals, his evident anxiety, a few words dropped by + the stranger, above all, his ride of thirty leagues, and the far from + plausible explanation he had given us of it, had already enabled me to + form an opinion as to the identity of my fellow-traveller. I had no doubt + at all I was in the company of a smuggler, and possibly of a brigand. What + cared I? I knew enough of the Spanish character to be very certain I had + nothing to fear from a man who had eaten and smoked with me. His very + presence would protect me in case of any undesirable meeting. And besides, + I was very glad to know what a brigand was really like. One doesn’t come + across such gentry every day. And there is a certain charm about finding + one’s self in close proximity to a dangerous being, especially when one + feels the being in question to be gentle and tame. + </p> + <p> + I was hoping the stranger might gradually fall into a confidential mood, + and in spite of my guide’s winks, I turned the conversation to the subject + of highwaymen. I need scarcely say that I spoke of them with great + respect. At that time there was a famous brigand in Andalusia, of the name + of Jose-Maria, whose exploits were on every lip. “Supposing I should be + riding along with Jose-Maria!” said I to myself. I told all the stories I + knew about the hero—they were all to his credit, indeed, and loudly + expressed my admiration of his generosity and his valour. + </p> + <p> + “Jose-Maria is nothing but a blackguard,” said the stranger gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Is he just to himself, or is this an excess of modesty?” I queried, + mentally, for by dint of scrutinizing my companion, I had ended by + reconciling his appearance with the description of Jose-Maria which I read + posted up on the gates of various Andalusian towns. “Yes, this must be he—fair + hair, blue eyes, large mouth, good teeth, small hands, fine shirt, a + velvet jacket with silver buttons on it, white leather gaiters, and a bay + horse. Not a doubt about it. But his <i>incognito</i> shall be respected!” + We reached the <i>venta</i>. It was just what he had described to me. In + other words, the most wretched hole of its kind I had as yet beheld. One + large apartment served as kitchen, dining-room, and sleeping chamber. A + fire was burning on a flat stone in the middle of the room, and the smoke + escaped through a hole in the roof, or rather hung in a cloud some feet + above the soil. Along the walls five or six mule rugs were spread on the + floor. These were the travellers’ beds. Twenty paces from the house, or + rather from the solitary apartment which I have just described, stood a + sort of shed, that served for a stable. + </p> + <p> + The only inhabitants of this delightful dwelling visible at the moment, at + all events, were an old woman, and a little girl of ten or twelve years + old, both of them as black as soot, and dressed in loathsome rags. “Here’s + the sole remnant of the ancient populations of Munda Boetica,” said I to + myself. “O Caesar! O Sextus Pompeius, if you were to revisit this earth + how astounded you would be!” + </p> + <p> + When the old woman saw my travelling companion an exclamation of surprise + escaped her. “Ah! Senor Don Jose!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + Don Jose frowned and lifted his hand with a gesture of authority that + forthwith silenced the old dame. + </p> + <p> + I turned to my guide and gave him to understand, by a sign that no one + else perceived, that I knew all about the man in whose company I was about + to spend the night. Our supper was better than I expected. On a little + table, only a foot high, we were served with an old rooster, fricasseed + with rice and numerous peppers, then more peppers in oil, and finally a <i>gaspacho</i>—a + sort of salad made of peppers. These three highly spiced dishes involved + our frequent recourse to a goatskin filled with Montella wine, which + struck us as being delicious. + </p> + <p> + After our meal was over, I caught sight of a mandolin hanging up against + the wall—in Spain you see mandolins in every corner—and I + asked the little girl, who had been waiting on us, if she knew how to play + it. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied. “But Don Jose does play well!” + </p> + <p> + “Do me the kindness to sing me something,” I said to him, “I’m + passionately fond of your national music.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t refuse to do anything for such a charming gentleman, who gives me + such excellent cigars,” responded Don Jose gaily, and having made the + child give him the mandolin, he sang to his own accompaniment. His voice, + though rough, was pleasing, the air he sang was strange and sad. As to the + words, I could not understand a single one of them. + </p> + <p> + “If I am not mistaken,” said I, “that’s not a Spanish air you have just + been singing. It’s like the <i>zorzicos</i> I’ve heard in the Provinces,* + and the words must be in the Basque language.” + </p> + <p> + * The <i>privileged Provinces</i>, Alava, Biscay, Guipuzcoa, and a part of + Navarre, which all enjoy special <i>fueros</i>. The Basque language is + spoken in these countries. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Don Jose, with a gloomy look. He laid the mandolin down on the + ground, and began staring with a peculiarly sad expression at the dying + fire. His face, at once fierce and noble-looking, reminded me, as the + firelight fell on it, of Milton’s Satan. Like him, perchance, my comrade + was musing over the home he had forfeited, the exile he had earned, by + some misdeed. I tried to revive the conversation, but so absorbed was he + in melancholy thought, that he gave me no answer. + </p> + <p> + The old woman had already gone to rest in a corner of the room, behind a + ragged rug hung on a rope. The little girl had followed her into this + retreat, sacred to the fair sex. Then my guide rose, and suggested that I + should go with him to the stable. But at the word Don Jose, waking, as it + were, with a start, inquired sharply whither he was going. + </p> + <p> + “To the stable,” answered the guide. + </p> + <p> + “What for? The horses have been fed! You can sleep here. The senor will + give you leave.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid the senor’s horse is sick. I’d like the senor to see it. + Perhaps he’d know what should be done for it.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite clear to me that Antonio wanted to speak to me apart. + </p> + <p> + But I did not care to rouse Don Jose’s suspicions, and being as we were, I + thought far the wisest course for me was to appear absolutely confident. + </p> + <p> + I therefore told Antonio that I knew nothing on earth about horses, and + that I was desperately sleepy. Don Jose followed him to the stable, and + soon returned alone. He told me there was nothing the matter with the + horse, but that my guide considered the animal such a treasure that he was + scrubbing it with his jacket to make it sweat, and expected to spend the + night in that pleasing occupation. Meanwhile I had stretched myself out on + the mule rugs, having carefully wrapped myself up in my own cloak, so as + to avoid touching them. Don Jose, having begged me to excuse the liberty + he took in placing himself so near me, lay down across the door, but not + until he had primed his blunderbuss afresh and carefully laid it under the + wallet, which served him as a pillow. + </p> + <p> + I had thought I was so tired that I should be able to sleep even in such a + lodging. But within an hour a most unpleasant itching sensation roused me + from my first nap. As soon as I realized its nature, I rose to my feet, + feeling convinced I should do far better to spend the rest of the night in + the open air than beneath that inhospitable roof. Walking tiptoe I reached + the door, stepped over Don Jose, who was sleeping the sleep of the just, + and managed so well that I got outside the building without waking him. + Just beside the door there was a wide wooden bench. I lay down upon it, + and settled myself, as best I could, for the remainder of the night. I was + just closing my eyes for a second time when I fancied I saw the shadow of + a man and then the shadow of a horse moving absolutely noiselessly, one + behind the other. I sat upright, and then I thought I recognised Antonio. + Surprised to see him outside the stable at such an hour, I got up and went + toward him. He had seen me first, and had stopped to wait for me. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” Antonio inquired in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “In the <i>venta</i>. He’s asleep. The bugs don’t trouble him. But what + are you going to do with that horse?” I then noticed that, to stifle all + noise as he moved out of the shed, Antonio had carefully muffled the + horse’s feet in the rags of an old blanket. + </p> + <p> + “Speak lower, for God’s sake,” said Antonio. “You don’t know who that man + is. He’s Jose Navarro, the most noted bandit in Andalusia. I’ve been + making signs to you all day long, and you wouldn’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “What do I care whether he’s a brigand or not,” I replied. “He hasn’t + robbed us, and I’ll wager he doesn’t want to.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be. But there are two hundred ducats on his head. Some lancers + are stationed in a place I know, a league and a half from here, and before + daybreak I’ll bring a few brawny fellows back with me. I’d have taken his + horse away, but the brute’s so savage that nobody but Navarro can go near + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Devil take you!” I cried. “What harm has the poor fellow done you that + you should want to inform against him? And besides, are you certain he is + the brigand you take him for?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly certain! He came after me into the stable just now, and said, + ‘You seem to know me. If you tell that good gentleman who I am, I’ll blow + your brains out!’ You stay here, sir, keep close to him. You’ve nothing to + fear. As long as he knows you are there, he won’t suspect anything.” + </p> + <p> + As we talked, we had moved so far from the <i>venta</i> that the noise of + the horse’s hoofs could not be heard there. In a twinkling Antonio + snatched off the rags he had wrapped around the creature’s feet, and was + just about to climb on its back. In vain did I attempt with prayers and + threats to restrain him. + </p> + <p> + “I’m only a poor man, senor,” quoth he, “I can’t afford to lose two + hundred ducats—especially when I shall earn them by ridding the + country of such vermin. But mind what you’re about! If Navarro wakes up, + he’ll snatch at his blunderbuss, and then look out for yourself! I’ve gone + too far now to turn back. Do the best you can for yourself!” + </p> + <p> + The villain was in his saddle already, he spurred his horse smartly, and I + soon lost sight of them both in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + I was very angry with my guide, and terribly alarmed as well. After a + moment’s reflection, I made up my mind, and went back to the <i>venta</i>. + Don Jose was still sound asleep, making up, no doubt, for the fatigue and + sleeplessness of several days of adventure. I had to shake him roughly + before I could wake him up. Never shall I forget his fierce look, and the + spring he made to get hold of his blunderbuss, which, as a precautionary + measure, I had removed to some distance from his couch. + </p> + <p> + “Senor,” I said, “I beg your pardon for disturbing you. But I have a silly + question to ask you. Would you be glad to see half a dozen lancers walk in + here?” + </p> + <p> + He bounded to his feet, and in an awful voice he demanded: + </p> + <p> + “Who told you?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s little matter whence the warning comes, so long as it be good.” + </p> + <p> + “Your guide has betrayed me—but he shall pay for it! Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. In the stable, I fancy. But somebody told me—” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you? It can’t be the old hag—” + </p> + <p> + “Some one I don’t know. Without more parleying, tell me, yes or no, have + you any reason for not waiting till the soldiers come? If you have any, + lose no time! If not, good-night to you, and forgive me for having + disturbed your slumbers!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, your guide! Your guide! I had my doubts of him at first—but—I’ll + settle with him! Farewell, senor. May God reward you for the service I owe + you! I am not quite so wicked as you think me. Yes, I still have something + in me that an honest man may pity. Farewell, senor! I have only one regret—that + I can not pay my debt to you!” + </p> + <p> + “As a reward for the service I have done you, Don Jose, promise me you’ll + suspect nobody—nor seek for vengeance. Here are some cigars for your + journey. Good luck to you.” And I held out my hand to him. + </p> + <p> + He squeezed it, without a word, took up his wallet and blunderbuss, and + after saying a few words to the old woman in a lingo that I could not + understand, he ran out to the shed. A few minutes later, I heard him + galloping out into the country. + </p> + <p> + As for me, I lay down again on my bench, but I did not go to sleep again. + I queried in my own mind whether I had done right to save a robber, and + possibly a murderer, from the gallows, simply and solely because I had + eaten ham and rice in his company. Had I not betrayed my guide, who was + supporting the cause of law and order? Had I not exposed him to a + ruffian’s vengeance? But then, what about the laws of hospitality? + </p> + <p> + “A mere savage prejudice,” said I to myself. “I shall have to answer for + all the crimes this brigand may commit in future.” Yet is that instinct of + the conscience which resists every argument really a prejudice? It may be + I could not have escaped from the delicate position in which I found + myself without remorse of some kind. I was still tossed to and fro, in the + greatest uncertainty as to the morality of my behaviour, when I saw half a + dozen horsemen ride up, with Antonio prudently lagging behind them. I went + to meet them, and told them the brigand had fled over two hours + previously. The old woman, when she was questioned by the sergeant, + admitted that she knew Navarro, but said that living alone, as she did, + she would never have dared to risk her life by informing against him. She + added that when he came to her house, he habitually went away in the + middle of the night. I, for my part, was made to ride to a place some + leagues away, where I showed my passport, and signed a declaration before + the <i>Alcalde</i>. This done, I was allowed to recommence my + archaeological investigations. Antonio was sulky with me; suspecting it + was I who had prevented his earning those two hundred ducats. + Nevertheless, we parted good friends at Cordova, where I gave him as large + a gratuity as the state of my finances would permit. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + I spent several days at Cordova. I had been told of a certain manuscript + in the library of the Dominican convent which was likely to furnish me + with very interesting details about the ancient Munda. The good fathers + gave me the most kindly welcome. I spent the daylight hours within their + convent, and at night I walked about the town. At Cordova a great many + idlers collect, toward sunset, in the quay that runs along the right bank + of the Guadalquivir. Promenaders on the spot have to breathe the odour of + a tan yard which still keeps up the ancient fame of the country in + connection with the curing of leather. But to atone for this, they enjoy a + sight which has a charm of its own. A few minutes before the Angelus bell + rings, a great company of women gathers beside the river, just below the + quay, which is rather a high one. Not a man would dare to join its ranks. + The moment the Angelus rings, darkness is supposed to have fallen. As the + last stroke sounds, all the women disrobe and step into the water. Then + there is laughing and screaming and a wonderful clatter. The men on the + upper quay watch the bathers, straining their eyes, and seeing very + little. Yet the white uncertain outlines perceptible against the dark-blue + waters of the stream stir the poetic mind, and the possessor of a little + fancy finds it not difficult to imagine that Diana and her nymphs are + bathing below, while he himself runs no risk of ending like Acteon. + </p> + <p> + I have been told that one day a party of good-for-nothing fellows banded + themselves together, and bribed the bell-ringer at the cathedral to ring + the Angelus some twenty minutes before the proper hour. Though it was + still broad daylight, the nymphs of the Guadalquivir never hesitated, and + putting far more trust in the Angelus bell than in the sun, they proceeded + to their bathing toilette—always of the simplest—with an easy + conscience. I was not present on that occasion. In my day, the bell-ringer + was incorruptible, the twilight was very dim, and nobody but a cat could + have distinguished the difference between the oldest orange woman, and the + prettiest shop-girl, in Cordova. + </p> + <p> + One evening, after it had grown quite dusk, I was leaning over the parapet + of the quay, smoking, when a woman came up the steps leading from the + river, and sat down near me. In her hair she wore a great bunch of jasmine—a + flower which, at night, exhales a most intoxicating perfume. She was + dressed simply, almost poorly, in black, as most work-girls are dressed in + the evening. Women of the richer class only wear black in the daytime, at + night they dress <i>a la francesa</i>. When she drew near me, the woman + let the mantilla which had covered her head drop on her shoulders, and “by + the dim light falling from the stars” I perceived her to be young, short + in stature, well-proportioned, and with very large eyes. I threw my cigar + away at once. She appreciated this mark of courtesy, essentially French, + and hastened to inform me that she was very fond of the smell of tobacco, + and that she even smoked herself, when she could get very mild <i>papelitos</i>. + I fortunately happened to have some such in my case, and at once offered + them to her. She condescended to take one, and lighted it at a burning + string which a child brought us, receiving a copper for its pains. We + mingled our smoke, and talked so long, the fair lady and I, that we ended + by being almost alone on the quay. I thought I might venture, without + impropriety, to suggest our going to eat an ice at the <i>neveria</i>.* + After a moment of modest demur, she agreed. But before finally accepting, + she desired to know what o’clock it was. I struck my repeater, and this + seemed to astound her greatly. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * A <i>café</i> to which a depot of ice, or rather of snow, is + attached. There is hardly a village in Spain without its + <i>neveria</i>. +</pre> + <p> + “What clever inventions you foreigners do have! What country do you belong + to, sir? You’re an Englishman, no doubt!”* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Every traveller in Spain who does not carry about samples + of calicoes and silks is taken for an Englishman + (<i>inglesito</i>). It is the same thing in the East. +</pre> + <p> + “I’m a Frenchman, and your devoted servant. And you, senora, or senorita, + you probably belong to Cordova?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events, you are an Andalusian? Your soft way of speaking makes me + think so.” + </p> + <p> + “If you notice people’s accent so closely, you must be able to guess what + I am.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are from the country of Jesus, two paces out of Paradise.” + </p> + <p> + I had learned the metaphor, which stands for Andalusia, from my friend + Francisco Sevilla, a well-known <i>picador</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! The people here say there is no place in Paradise for us!” + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps you are of Moorish blood—or——” I stopped, + not venturing to add “a Jewess.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh come! You must see I’m a gipsy! Wouldn’t you like me to tell you <i>la + baji</i>?* Did you never hear tell of Carmencita? That’s who I am!” + </p> + <p> + * Your fortune. + </p> + <p> + I was such a miscreant in those days—now fifteen years ago—that + the close proximity of a sorceress did not make me recoil in horror. “So + be it!” I thought. “Last week I ate my supper with a highway robber. + To-day I’ll go and eat ices with a servant of the devil. A traveller + should see everything.” I had yet another motive for prosecuting her + acquaintance. When I left college—I acknowledge it with shame—I + had wasted a certain amount of time in studying occult science, and had + even attempted, more than once, to exorcise the powers of darkness. Though + I had been cured, long since, of my passion for such investigations, I + still felt a certain attraction and curiosity with regard to all + superstitions, and I was delighted to have this opportunity of discovering + how far the magic art had developed among the gipsies. + </p> + <p> + Talking as we went, we had reached the <i>neveria</i>, and seated + ourselves at a little table, lighted by a taper protected by a glass + globe. I then had time to take a leisurely view of my <i>gitana</i>, while + several worthy individuals, who were eating their ices, stared + open-mouthed at beholding me in such gay company. + </p> + <p> + I very much doubt whether Senorita Carmen was a pure-blooded gipsy. At all + events, she was infinitely prettier than any other woman of her race I + have ever seen. For a women to be beautiful, they say in Spain, she must + fulfil thirty <i>ifs</i>, or, if it please you better, you must be able to + define her appearance by ten adjectives, applicable to three portions of + her person. + </p> + <p> + For instance, three things about her must be black, her eyes, her + eyelashes, and her eyebrows. Three must be dainty, her fingers, her lips, + her hair, and so forth. For the rest of this inventory, see Brantome. My + gipsy girl could lay no claim to so many perfections. Her skin, though + perfectly smooth, was almost of a copper hue. Her eyes were set obliquely + in her head, but they were magnificent and large. Her lips, a little full, + but beautifully shaped, revealed a set of teeth as white as newly skinned + almonds. Her hair—a trifle coarse, perhaps—was black, with + blue lights on it like a raven’s wing, long and glossy. Not to weary my + readers with too prolix a description, I will merely add, that to every + blemish she united some advantage, which was perhaps all the more evident + by contrast. There was something strange and wild about her beauty. Her + face astonished you, at first sight, but nobody could forget it. Her eyes, + especially, had an expression of mingled sensuality and fierceness which I + had never seen in any other human glance. “Gipsy’s eye, wolf’s eye!” is a + Spanish saying which denotes close observation. If my readers have no time + to go to the “Jardin des Plantes” to study the wolf’s expression, they + will do well to watch the ordinary cat when it is lying in wait for a + sparrow. + </p> + <p> + It will be understood that I should have looked ridiculous if I had + proposed to have my fortune told in a <i>café</i>. I therefore begged the + pretty witch’s leave to go home with her. She made no difficulties about + consenting, but she wanted to know what o’clock it was again, and + requested me to make my repeater strike once more. + </p> + <p> + “Is it really gold?” she said, gazing at it with rapt attention. + </p> + <p> + When we started off again, it was quite dark. Most of the shops were shut, + and the streets were almost empty. We crossed the bridge over the + Guadalquivir, and at the far end of the suburb we stopped in front of a + house of anything but palatial appearance. The door was opened by a child, + to whom the gipsy spoke a few words in a language unknown to me, which I + afterward understood to be <i>Romany</i>, or <i>chipe calli</i>—the + gipsy idiom. The child instantly disappeared, leaving us in sole + possession of a tolerably spacious room, furnished with a small table, two + stools, and a chest. I must not forget to mention a jar of water, a pile + of oranges, and a bunch of onions. + </p> + <p> + As soon as we were left alone, the gipsy produced, out of her chest, a + pack of cards, bearing signs of constant usage, a magnet, a dried + chameleon, and a few other indispensable adjuncts of her art. Then she + bade me cross my left hand with a silver coin, and the magic ceremonies + duly began. It is unnecessary to chronicle her predictions, and as for the + style of her performance, it proved her to be no mean sorceress. + </p> + <p> + Unluckily we were soon disturbed. The door was suddenly burst open, and a + man, shrouded to the eyes in a brown cloak, entered the room, + apostrophizing the gipsy in anything but gentle terms. What he said I + could not catch, but the tone of his voice revealed the fact that he was + in a very evil temper. The gipsy betrayed neither surprise nor anger at + his advent, but she ran to meet him, and with a most striking volubility, + she poured out several sentences in the mysterious language she had + already used in my presence. The word <i>payllo</i>, frequently + reiterated, was the only one I understood. I knew that the gipsies use it + to describe all men not of their own race. Concluding myself to be the + subject of this discourse, I was prepared for a somewhat delicate + explanation. I had already laid my hand on the leg of one of the stools, + and was studying within myself to discover the exact moment at which I had + better throw it at his head, when, roughly pushing the gipsy to one side, + the man advanced toward me. Then with a step backward he cried: + </p> + <p> + “What, sir! Is it you?” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him in my turn and recognised my friend Don Jose. At that + moment I did feel rather sorry I had saved him from the gallows. + </p> + <p> + “What, is it you, my good fellow?” I exclaimed, with as easy a smile as I + could muster. “You have interrupted this young lady just when she was + foretelling me most interesting things!” + </p> + <p> + “The same as ever. There shall be an end to it!” he hissed between his + teeth, with a savage glance at her. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the <i>gitana</i> was still talking to him in her own tongue. + She became more and more excited. Her eyes grew fierce and bloodshot, her + features contracted, she stamped her foot. She seemed to me to be + earnestly pressing him to do something he was unwilling to do. What this + was I fancied I understood only too well, by the fashion in which she kept + drawing her little hand backward and forward under her chin. I was + inclined to think she wanted to have somebody’s throat cut, and I had a + fair suspicion the throat in question was my own. To all her torrent of + eloquence Don Jose’s only reply was two or three shortly spoken words. At + this the gipsy cast a glance of the most utter scorn at him, then, seating + herself Turkish-fashion in a corner of the room, she picked out an orange, + tore off the skin, and began to eat it. + </p> + <p> + Don Jose took hold of my arm, opened the door, and led me into the street. + We walked some two hundred paces in the deepest silence. Then he stretched + out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Go straight on,” he said, “and you’ll come to the bridge.” + </p> + <p> + That instant he turned his back on me and departed at a great pace. I took + my way back to my inn, rather crestfallen, and considerably out of temper. + The worst of all was that, when I undressed, I discovered my watch was + missing. + </p> + <p> + Various considerations prevented me from going to claim it next day, or + requesting the <i>Corregidor</i> to be good enough to have a search made + for it. I finished my work on the Dominican manuscript, and went on to + Seville. After several months spent wandering hither and thither in + Andalusia, I wanted to get back to Madrid, and with that object I had to + pass through Cordova. I had no intention of making any stay there, for I + had taken a dislike to that fair city, and to the ladies who bathed in the + Guadalquivir. Nevertheless, I had some visits to pay, and certain errands + to do, which must detain me several days in the old capital of the + Mussulman princes. + </p> + <p> + The moment I made my appearance in the Dominican convent, one of the + monks, who had always shown the most lively interest in my inquiries as to + the site of the battlefield of Munda, welcomed me with open arms, + exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “Praised be God! You are welcome! My dear friend. We all thought you were + dead, and I myself have said many a <i>pater</i> and <i>ave</i> (not that + I regret them!) for your soul. Then you weren’t murdered, after all? That + you were robbed, we know!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” I asked, rather astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know! That splendid repeater you used to strike in the library + whenever we said it was time for us to go into church. Well, it has been + found, and you’ll get it back.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” I broke in, rather put out of countenance, “I lost it—” + </p> + <p> + “The rascal’s under lock and key, and as he was known to be a man who + would shoot any Christian for the sake of a <i>peseta</i>, we were most + dreadfully afraid he had killed you. I’ll go with you to the <i>Corregidor</i>, + and he’ll give you back your fine watch. And after that, you won’t dare to + say the law doesn’t do its work properly in Spain.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you,” said I, “I’d far rather lose my watch than have to give + evidence in court to hang a poor unlucky devil, and especially because—because——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you needn’t be alarmed! He’s thoroughly done for; they might hang him + twice over. But when I say hang, I say wrong. Your thief is an <i>Hidalgo</i>. + So he’s to be garrotted the day after to-morrow, without fail.* So you see + one theft more or less won’t affect his position. Would to God he had done + nothing but steal! But he has committed several murders, one more hideous + than the other.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In 1830, the noble class still enjoyed this privilege. + Nowadays, under the constitutional <i>regime</i>, commoners have + attained the same dignity. +</pre> + <p> + “What’s his name?” + </p> + <p> + “In this country he is only known as Jose Navarro, but he has another + Basque name, which neither your nor I will ever be able to pronounce. By + the way, the man is worth seeing, and you, who like to study the peculiar + features of each country, shouldn’t lose this chance of noting how a + rascal bids farewell to this world in Spain. He is in jail, and Father + Martinez will take you to him.” + </p> + <p> + So bent was my Dominican friend on my seeing the preparations for this + “neat little hanging job” that I was fain to agree. I went to see the + prisoner, having provided myself with a bundle of cigars, which I hoped + might induce him to forgive my intrusion. + </p> + <p> + I was ushered into Don Jose’s presence just as he was sitting at table. He + greeted me with a rather distant nod, and thanked me civilly for the + present I had brought him. Having counted the cigars in the bundle I had + placed in his hand, he took out a certain number and returned me the rest, + remarking that he would not need any more of them. + </p> + <p> + I inquired whether by laying out a little money, or by applying to my + friends, I might not be able to do something to soften his lot. He + shrugged his shoulders, to begin with, smiling sadly. Soon, as by an + after-thought, he asked me to have a mass said for the repose of his soul. + </p> + <p> + Then he added nervously: “Would you—would you have another said for + a person who did you a wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly I will, my dear fellow,” I answered. “But no one in this + country has wronged me so far as I know.” + </p> + <p> + He took my hand and squeezed it, looking very grave. After a moment’s + silence, he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Might I dare to ask another service of you? When you go back to your own + country perhaps you will pass through Navarre. At all events you’ll go by + Vittoria, which isn’t very far off.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, “I shall certainly pass through Vittoria. But I may very + possibly go round by Pampeluna, and for your sake, I believe I should be + very glad to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you do go to Pampeluna, you’ll see more than one thing that will + interest you. It’s a fine town. I’ll give you this medal,” he showed me a + little silver medal that he wore hung around his neck. “You’ll wrap it up + in paper”—he paused a moment to master his emotion—“and you’ll + take it, or send it, to an old lady whose address I’ll give you. Tell her + I am dead—but don’t tell her how I died.” + </p> + <p> + I promised to perform his commission. I saw him the next day, and spent + part of it in his company. From his lips I learned the sad incidents that + follow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + “I was born,” he said, “at Elizondo, in the valley of Baztan. My name is + Don Jose Lizzarrabengoa, and you know enough of Spain, sir, to know at + once, by my name, that I come of an old Christian and Basque stock. I call + myself Don, because I have a right to it, and if I were at Elizondo I + could show you my parchment genealogy. My family wanted me to go into the + church, and made me study for it, but I did not like work. I was too fond + of playing tennis, and that was my ruin. When we Navarrese begin to play + tennis, we forget everything else. One day, when I had won the game, a + young fellow from Alava picked a quarrel with me. We took to our <i>maquilas</i>,* + and I won again. But I had to leave the neighbourhood. I fell in with some + dragoons, and enlisted in the Almanza Cavalry Regiment. Mountain folks + like us soon learn to be soldiers. Before long I was a corporal, and I had + been told I should soon be made a sergeant, when, to my misfortune, I was + put on guard at the Seville Tobacco Factory. If you have been to Seville + you have seen the great building, just outside the ramparts, close to the + Guadalquivir; I can fancy I see the entrance, and the guard room just + beside it, even now. When Spanish soldiers are on duty, they either play + cards or go to sleep. I, like an honest Navarrese, always tried to keep + myself busy. I was making a chain to hold my priming-pin, out of a bit of + wire: all at once, my comrades said, ‘there’s the bell ringing, the girls + are coming back to work.’ You must know, sir, that there are quite four or + five hundred women employed in the factory. They roll the cigars in a + great room into which no man can go without a permit from the <i>Veintiquatro</i>,** + because when the weather is hot they make themselves at home, especially + the young ones. When the work-girls come back after their dinner, numbers + of young men go down to see them pass by, and talk all sorts of nonsense + to them. Very few of those young ladies will refuse a silk mantilla, and + men who care for that sort of sport have nothing to do but bend down and + pick their fish up. While the others watched the girls go by, I stayed on + my bench near the door. I was a young fellow then—my heart was still + in my own country, and I didn’t believe in any pretty girls who hadn’t + blue skirts and long plaits of hair falling on their shoulders.*** And + besides, I was rather afraid of the Andalusian women. I had not got used + to their ways yet; they were always jeering one—never spoke a single + word of sense. So I was sitting with my nose down upon my chain, when I + heard some bystanders say, ‘Here comes the <i>gitanella</i>!’ Then I + lifted up my eyes, and I saw her! It was that very Carmen you know, and in + whose rooms I met you a few months ago. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Iron-shod sticks used by the Basques. + + ** Magistrate in charge of the municipal police + arrangements, and local government regulations. + + *** The costume usually worn by peasant women in Navarre and + the Basque Provinces. +</pre> + <p> + “She was wearing a very short skirt, below which her white silk stockings—with + more than one hole in them—and her dainty red morocco shoes, + fastened with flame-coloured ribbons, were clearly seen. She had thrown + her mantilla back, to show her shoulders, and a great bunch of acacia that + was thrust into her chemise. She had another acacia blossom in the corner + of her mouth, and she walked along, swaying her hips, like a filly from + the Cordova stud farm. In my country anybody who had seen a woman dressed + in that fashion would have crossed himself. At Seville every man paid her + some bold compliment on her appearance. She had an answer for each and + all, with her hand on her hip, as bold as the thorough gipsy she was. At + first I didn’t like her looks, and I fell to my work again. But she, like + all women and cats, who won’t come if you call them, and do come if you + don’t call them, stopped short in front of me, and spoke to me. + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Compadre</i>,’ said she, in the Andalusian fashion, ‘won’t you give + me your chain for the keys of my strong box?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s for my priming-pin,’ said I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Your priming-pin!’ she cried, with a laugh. ‘Oho! I suppose the + gentleman makes lace, as he wants pins!’ + </p> + <p> + “Everybody began to laugh, and I felt myself getting red in the face, and + couldn’t hit on anything in answer. + </p> + <p> + “‘Come, my love!’ she began again, ‘make me seven ells of lace for my + mantilla, my pet pin-maker!’ + </p> + <p> + “And taking the acacia blossom out of her mouth she flipped it at me with + her thumb so that it hit me just between the eyes. I tell you, sir, I felt + as if a bullet had struck me. I didn’t know which way to look. I sat + stock-still, like a wooden board. When she had gone into the factory, I + saw the acacia blossom, which had fallen on the ground between my feet. I + don’t know what made me do it, but I picked it up, unseen by any of my + comrades, and put it carefully inside my jacket. That was my first folly. + </p> + <p> + “Two or three hours later I was still thinking about her, when a panting, + terrified-looking porter rushed into the guard-room. He told us a woman + had been stabbed in the great cigar-room, and that the guard must be sent + in at once. The sergeant told me to take two men, and go and see to it. I + took my two men and went upstairs. Imagine, sir, that when I got into the + room, I found, to begin with, some three hundred women, stripped to their + shifts, or very near it, all of them screaming and yelling and + gesticulating, and making such a row that you couldn’t have heard God’s + own thunder. On one side of the room one of the women was lying on the + broad of her back, streaming with blood, with an X newly cut on her face + by two strokes of a knife. Opposite the wounded woman, whom the + best-natured of the band were attending, I saw Carmen, held by five or six + of her comrades. The wounded woman was crying out, ‘A confessor, a + confessor! I’m killed!’ Carmen said nothing at all. She clinched her teeth + and rolled her eyes like a chameleon. ‘What’s this?’ I asked. I had hard + work to find out what had happened, for all the work-girls talked at once. + It appeared that the injured girl had boasted she had money enough in her + pocket to buy a donkey at the Triana Market. ‘Why,’ said Carmen, who had a + tongue of her own, ‘can’t you do with a broom?’ Stung by this taunt, it + may be because she felt herself rather unsound in that particular, the + other girl replied that she knew nothing about brooms, seeing she had not + the honour of being either a gipsy or one of the devil’s godchildren, but + that the Senorita Carmen would shortly make acquaintance with her donkey, + when the <i>Corregidor</i> took her out riding with two lackeys behind her + to keep the flies off. ‘Well,’ retorted Carmen, ‘I’ll make troughs for the + flies to drink out of on your cheeks, and I’ll paint a draught-board on + them!’ * And thereupon, slap, bank! She began making St. Andrew’s crosses + on the girl’s face with a knife she had been using for cutting off the + ends of the cigars. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Pintar un javeque</i>, “paint a xebec,” a particular type of + ship. Most Spanish vessels of this description have a + checkered red and white stripe painted around them. +</pre> + <p> + “The case was quite clear. I took hold of Carmen’s arm. ‘Sister mine,’ I + said civilly, ‘you must come with me.’ She shot a glance of recognition at + me, but she said, with a resigned look: ‘Let’s be off. Where is my + mantilla?’ She put it over her head so that only one of her great eyes was + to be seen, and followed my two men, as quiet as a lamb. When we got to + the guardroom the sergeant said it was a serious job, and he must send her + to prison. I was told off again to take her there. I put her between two + dragoons, as a corporal does on such occasions. We started off for the + town. The gipsy had begun by holding her tongue. But when we got to the <i>Calle + de la Serpiente</i>—you know it, and that it earns its name by its + many windings—she began by dropping her mantilla on to her + shoulders, so as to show me her coaxing little face, and turning round to + me as well as she could, she said: + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Oficial mio</i>, where are you taking me to?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘To prison, my poor child,’ I replied, as gently as I could, just as any + kind-hearted soldier is bound to speak to a prisoner, and especially to a + woman. + </p> + <p> + “‘Alack! What will become of me! Senor Oficial, have pity on me! You are + so young, so good-looking.’ Then, in a lower tone, she said, ‘Let me get + away, and I’ll give you a bit of the <i>bar lachi</i>, that will make + every woman fall in love with you!’ + </p> + <p> + “The <i>bar lachi</i>, sir, is the loadstone, with which the gipsies + declare one who knows how to use it can cast any number of spells. If you + can make a woman drink a little scrap of it, powdered, in a glass of white + wine, she’ll never be able to resist you. I answered, as gravely as I + could: + </p> + <p> + “‘We are not here to talk nonsense. You’ll have to go to prison. Those are + my orders, and there’s no help for it!’ + </p> + <p> + “We men from the Basque country have an accent which all Spaniards easily + recognise; on the other hand, not one of them can ever learn to say <i>Bai, + jaona</i>!* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Yes, sir. +</pre> + <p> + “So Carmen easily guessed I was from the Provinces. You know, sir, that + the gipsies, who belong to no particular country, and are always moving + about, speak every language, and most of them are quite at home in + Portugal, in France, in our Provinces, in Catalonia, or anywhere else. + They can even make themselves understood by Moors and English people. + Carmen knew Basque tolerably well. + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Laguna ene bihotsarena</i>, comrade of my heart,’ said she suddenly. + ‘Do you belong to our country?’ + </p> + <p> + “Our language is so beautiful, sir, that when we hear it in a foreign + country it makes us quiver. I wish,” added the bandit in a lower tone, “I + could have a confessor from my own country.” + </p> + <p> + After a silence, he began again. + </p> + <p> + “‘I belong to Elizondo,’ I answered in Basque, very much affected by the + sound of my own language. + </p> + <p> + “‘I come from Etchalar,’ said she (that’s a district about four hours’ + journey from my home). ‘I was carried off to Seville by the gipsies. I was + working in the factory to earn enough money to take me back to Navarre, to + my poor old mother, who has no support in the world but me, besides her + little <i>barratcea</i>* with twenty cider-apple trees in it. Ah! if I + were only back in my own country, looking up at the white mountains! I + have been insulted here, because I don’t belong to this land of rogues and + sellers of rotten oranges; and those hussies are all banded together + against me, because I told them that not all their Seville <i>jacques</i>,** + and all their knives, would frighten an honest lad from our country, with + his blue cap and his <i>maquila</i>! Good comrade, won’t you do anything + to help your own countrywoman?’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Field, garden. + + ** Bravos, boasters. +</pre> + <p> + “She was lying then, sir, as she has always lied. I don’t know that that + girl ever spoke a word of truth in her life, but when she did speak, I + believed her—I couldn’t help myself. She mangled her Basque words, + and I believed she came from Navarre. But her eyes and her mouth and her + skin were enough to prove she was a gipsy. I was mad, I paid no more + attention to anything, I thought to myself that if the Spaniards had dared + to speak evil of my country, I would have slashed their faces just as she + had slashed her comrade’s. In short, I was like a drunken man, I was + beginning to say foolish things, and I was very near doing them. + </p> + <p> + “‘If I were to give you a push and you tumbled down, good + fellow-countryman,’ she began again in Basque, ‘those two Castilian + recruits wouldn’t be able to keep me back.’ + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I forgot my orders, I forgot everything, and I said to her, ‘Well, + then, my friend, girl of my country, try it, and may our Lady of the + Mountain help you through.’ + </p> + <p> + “Just at that moment we were passing one of the many narrow lanes one sees + in Seville. All at once Carmen turned and struck me in the chest with her + fist. I tumbled backward, purposely. With a bound she sprang over me, and + ran off, showing us a pair of legs! People talk about a pair of Basque + legs! but hers were far better—as fleet as they were well-turned. As + for me, I picked myself up at once, but I stuck out my lance* crossways + and barred the street, so that my comrades were checked at the very first + moment of pursuit. Then I started to run myself, and they after me—but + how were we to catch her? There was no fear of that, what with our spurs, + our swords, and our lances. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * All Spanish cavalry soldiers carry lances. +</pre> + <p> + “In less time than I have taken to tell you the story the prisoner had + disappeared. And besides, every gossip in the quarter covered her flight, + poked scorn at us, and pointed us in the wrong direction. After a good + deal of marching and countermarching, we had to go back to the guard-room + without a receipt from the governor of the jail. + </p> + <p> + “To avoid punishment, my men made known that Carmen had spoken to me in + Basque; and to tell the truth, it did not seem very natural that a blow + from such a little creature should have so easily overthrown a strong + fellow like me. The whole thing looked suspicious, or, at all events, not + over-clear. When I came off guard I lost my corporal’s stripes, and was + condemned to a month’s imprisonment. It was the first time I had been + punished since I had been in the service. Farewell, now, to the sergeant’s + stripes, on which I had reckoned so surely! + </p> + <p> + “The first days in prison were very dreary. When I enlisted I had fancied + I was sure to become an officer, at all events. Two of my compatriots, + Longa and Mina, are captains-general, after all. Chapalangarra was a + colonel, and I have played tennis a score of times with his brother, who + was just a needy fellow like myself. ‘Now,’ I kept crying to myself, ‘all + the time you served without being punished has been lost. Now you have a + bad mark against your name, and to get yourself back into the officers’ + good graces you’ll have to work ten times as hard as when you joined as a + recruit.’ And why have I got myself punished? For the sake of a gipsy + hussy, who made game of me, and who at this moment is busy thieving in + some corner of the town. Yet I couldn’t help thinking about her. Will you + believe it, sir, those silk stockings of hers with the holes in them, of + which she had given me such a full view as she took to her heels, were + always before my eyes? I used to look through the barred windows of the + jail into the street, and among all the women who passed I never could see + one to compare with that minx of a girl—and then, in spite of + myself, I used to smell the acacia blossom she had thrown at me, and + which, dry as it was, still kept its sweet scent. If there are such things + as witches, that girl certainly was one. + </p> + <p> + “One day the jailer came in, and gave me an Alcala roll.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Alcala de los Panaderos</i>, a village two leagues from + Seville, where the most delicious rolls are made. They are + said to owe their quality to the water of the place, and + great quantities of them are brought to Seville every day. +</pre> + <p> + “‘Look here,’ said he, ‘this is what your cousin has sent you.’ + </p> + <p> + “I took the loaf, very much astonished, for I had no cousin in Seville. It + may be a mistake, thought I, as I looked at the roll, but it was so + appetizing and smelt so good, that I made up my mind to eat it, without + troubling my head as to whence it came, or for whom it was really + intended. + </p> + <p> + “When I tried to cut it, my knife struck on something hard. I looked, and + found a little English file, which had been slipped into the dough before + the roll had been baked. The roll also contained a gold piece of two + piastres. Then I had no further doubt—it was a present from Carmen. + To people of her blood, liberty is everything, and they would set a town + on fire to save themselves one day in prison. The girl was artful, indeed, + and armed with that roll, I might have snapped my fingers at the jailers. + In one hour, with that little file, I could have sawn through the thickest + bar, and with the gold coin I could have exchanged my soldier’s cloak for + civilian garb at the nearest shop. You may fancy that a man who has often + taken the eaglets out of their nests in our cliff would have found no + difficulty in getting down to the street out of a window less than thirty + feet above it. But I didn’t choose to escape. I still had a soldier’s code + of honour, and desertion appeared to me in the light of a heinous crime. + Yet this proof of remembrance touched me. When a man is in prison he likes + to think he has a friend outside who takes an interest in him. The gold + coin did rather offend me; I should have very much liked to return it; but + where was I to find my creditor? That did not seem a very easy task. + </p> + <p> + “After the ceremony of my degradation I had fancied my sufferings were + over, but I had another humiliation before me. That came when I left + prison, and was told off for duty, and put on sentry, as a private + soldier. You can not conceive what a proud man endures at such a moment. I + believe I would have just as soon been shot dead—then I should have + marched alone at the head of my platoon, at all events; I should have felt + I was somebody, with the eyes of others fixed upon me. + </p> + <p> + “I was posted as sentry on the door of the colonel’s house. The colonel + was a young man, rich, good-natured, fond of amusing himself. All the + young officers were there, and many civilians as well, besides ladies—actresses, + as it was said. For my part, it seemed to me as if the whole town had + agreed to meet at that door, in order to stare at me. Then up drove the + colonel’s carriage, with his valet on the box. And who should I see get + out of it, but the gipsy girl! She was dressed up, this time, to the eyes, + togged out in golden ribbons—a spangled gown, blue shoes, all + spangled too, flowers and gold lace all over her. In her hand she carried + a tambourine. With her there were two other gipsy women, one young and one + old. They always have one old woman who goes with them, and then an old + man with a guitar, a gipsy too, to play alone, and also for their dances. + You must know these gipsy girls are often sent for to private houses, to + dance their special dance, the <i>Romalis</i>, and often, too, for quite + other purposes. + </p> + <p> + “Carmen recognised me, and we exchanged glances. I don’t know why, but at + that moment I should have liked to have been a hundred feet beneath the + ground. + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Agur laguna</i>,’ * said she. ‘Oficial mio! You keep guard like a + recruit,’ and before I could find a word in answer, she was inside the + house. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Good-day, comrade! +</pre> + <p> + “The whole party was assembled in the <i>patio</i>, and in spite of the + crowd I could see nearly everything that went on through the lattice.* I + could hear the castanets and the tambourine, the laughter and applause. + Sometimes I caught a glimpse of her head as she bounded upward with her + tambourine. Then I could hear the officers saying many things to her which + brought the blood to my face. As to her answers, I knew nothing of them. + It was on that day, I think, that I began to love her in earnest—for + three or four times I was tempted to rush into the <i>patio</i>, and drive + my sword into the bodies of all the coxcombs who were making love to her. + My torture lasted a full hour; then the gipsies came out, and the carriage + took them away. As she passed me by, Carmen looked at me with those eyes + you know, and said to me very low, ‘Comrade, people who are fond of good + <i>fritata</i> come to eat it at Lillas Pastia’s at Triana!’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In most of the houses in Seville there is an inner court + surrounded by an arched portico. This is used as a sitting- + room in summer. Over the court is stretched a piece of tent + cloth, which is watered during the day and removed at night. + The street door is almost always left open, and the passage + leading to the court (<i>zaguan</i>) is closed by an iron lattice + of very elegant workmanship. +</pre> + <p> + “Then, light as a kid, she stepped into the carriage, the coachman whipped + up his mules, and the whole merry party departed, whither I know not. + </p> + <p> + “You may fancy that the moment I was off guard I went to Triana; but first + of all I got myself shaved and brushed myself up as if I had been going on + parade. She was living with Lillas Pastia, an old fried-fish seller, a + gipsy, as black as a Moor, to whose house a great many civilians resorted + to eat <i>fritata</i>, especially, I think, because Carmen had taken up + her quarters there. + </p> + <p> + “‘Lillas,’ she said, as soon as she saw me. ‘I’m not going to work any + more to-day. To-morrow will be a day, too.* Come, fellow-countryman, let + us go for a walk!’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Manana sera otro dia.</i>—A Spanish proverb. +</pre> + <p> + “She pulled her mantilla across her nose, and there we were in the street, + without my knowing in the least whither I was bound. + </p> + <p> + “‘Senorita,’ said I, ‘I think I have to thank you for a present I had + while I was in prison. I’ve eaten the bread; the file will do for + sharpening my lance, and I keep it in remembrance of you. But as for the + money, here it is.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, he’s kept the money!’ she exclaimed, bursting out laughing. ‘But, + after all, that’s all the better—for I’m decidedly hard up! What + matter! The dog that runs never starves!* Come, let’s spend it all! You + shall treat.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Chuquel sos pirela, cocal terela</i>. “The dog that runs + finds a bone.”—Gipsy proverb. +</pre> + <p> + “We had turned back toward Seville. At the entrance of the <i>Calle de la + Serpiente</i> she bought a dozen oranges, which she made me put into my + handkerchief. A little farther on she bought a roll, a sausage, and a + bottle of manzanilla. Then, last of all, she turned into a confectioner’s + shop. There she threw the gold coin I had returned to her on the counter, + with another she had in her pocket, and some small silver, and then she + asked me for all the money I had. All I possessed was one peseta and a few + cuartos, which I handed over to her, very much ashamed of not having more. + I thought she would have carried away the whole shop. She took everything + that was best and dearest, <i>yemas</i>,* <i>turon</i>,** preserved fruits—as + long as the money lasted. And all these, too, I had to carry in paper + bags. Perhaps you know the <i>Calle del Candilejo</i>, where there is a + head of Don Pedro the Avenger.*** That head ought to have given me pause. + We stopped at an old house in that street. She passed into the entry, and + knocked at a door on the ground floor. It was opened by a gipsy, a + thorough-paced servant of the devil. Carmen said a few words to her in + Romany. At first the old hag grumbled. To smooth her down Carmen gave her + a couple of oranges and a handful of sugar-plums, and let her have a taste + of wine. Then she hung her cloak on her back, and led her to the door, + which she fastened with a wooden bar. As soon as we were alone she began + to laugh and caper like a lunatic, singing out, ‘You are my <i>rom</i>, + I’m your <i>romi</i>.‘**** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Sugared yolks of eggs. + + ** A sort of nougat. + + *** This king, Don Pedro, whom we call “the Cruel,” and whom + Queen Isabella, the Catholic, never called anything but “the + Avenger,” was fond of walking about the streets of Seville + at night in search of adventures, like the Caliph Haroun al + Raschid. One night, in a lonely street, he quarrelled with a + man who was singing a serenade. There was a fight, and the + king killed the amorous <i>caballero</i>. At the clashing of + their swords, an old woman put her head out of the window + and lighted up the scene with a tiny lamp (candilejo) which + she held in her hand. My readers must be informed that King + Don Pedro, though nimble and muscular, suffered from one + strange fault in his physical conformation. Whenever he + walked his knees cracked loudly. By this cracking the old + woman easily recognised him. The next day the <i>veintiquatro</i> + in charge came to make his report to the king. “Sir, a duel + was fought last night in such a street—one of the + combatants is dead.” “Have you found the murderer?” “Yes, + sir.” “Why has he not been punished already?” “Sir, I await + your orders!” “Carry out the law.” Now the king had just + published a decree that every duellist was to have his head + cut off, and that head was to be set up on the scene of the + fight. The <i>veintiquatro</i> got out of the difficulty like a + clever man. He had the head sawed off a statue of the king, + and set that up in a niche in the middle of the street in + which the murder had taken place. The king and all the + Sevillians thought this a very good joke. The street took + its name from the lamp held by the old woman, the only + witness of the incident. The above is the popular tradition. + Zuniga tells the story somewhat differently. However that + may be, a street called <i>Calle del Candilejo</i> still exists + in Seville, and in that street there is a bust which is said + to be a portrait of Don Pedro. This bust, unfortunately, is + a modern production. During the seventeenth century the old + one had become very much defaced, and the municipality had + it replaced by that now to be seen. + + **** <i>Rom</i>, husband. <i>Romi</i>, wife. +</pre> + <p> + “There I stood in the middle of the room, laden with all her purchases, + and not knowing where I was to put them down. She tumbled them all onto + the floor, and threw her arms round my neck, saying: + </p> + <p> + “‘I pay my debts, I pay my debts! That’s the law of the <i>Cales</i>.‘* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Calo</i>, feminine <i>calli</i>, plural <i>cales</i>. Literally + “black,” the name the gipsies apply to themselves in their + own language. +</pre> + <p> + “Ah, sir, that day! that day! When I think of it I forget what to-morrow + must bring me!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the bandit held his peace, then, when he had relighted his + cigar, he began afresh. + </p> + <p> + “We spent the whole day together, eating, drinking, and so forth. When she + had stuffed herself with sugar-plums, like any child of six years old, she + thrust them by handfuls into the old woman’s water-jar. ‘That’ll make + sherbet for her,’ she said. She smashed the <i>yemas</i> by throwing them + against the walls. ‘They’ll keep the flies from bothering us.’ There was + no prank or wild frolic she didn’t indulge in. I told her I should have + liked to see her dance, only there were no castanets to be had. Instantly + she seized the old woman’s only earthenware plate, smashed it up, and + there she was dancing the <i>Romalis</i>, and making the bits of broken + crockery rattle as well as if they had been ebony and ivory castanets. + That girl was good company, I can tell you! Evening fell, and I heard the + drums beating tattoo. + </p> + <p> + “‘I must get back to quarters for roll-call,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘To quarters!’ she answered, with a look of scorn. ‘Are you a negro + slave, to let yourself be driven with a ramrod like that! You are as silly + as a canary bird. Your dress suits your nature.* Pshaw! you’ve no more + heart than a chicken.’ + </p> + <p> + * Spanish dragoons wear a yellow uniform. + </p> + <p> + “I stayed on, making up my mind to the inevitable guard-room. The next + morning the first suggestion of parting came from her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hark ye, Joseito,’ she said. ‘Have I paid you? By our law, I owed you + nothing, because you’re a <i>payllo</i>. But you’re a good-looking fellow, + and I took a fancy to you. Now we’re quits. Good-day!’ + </p> + <p> + “I asked her when I should see her again. + </p> + <p> + “‘When you’re less of a simpleton,’ she retorted, with a laugh. Then, in a + more serious tone, ‘Do you know, my son, I really believe I love you a + little; but that can’t last! The dog and the wolf can’t agree for long. + Perhaps if you turned gipsy, I might care to be your <i>romi</i>. But + that’s all nonsense, such things aren’t possible. Pshaw! my boy. Believe + me, you’re well out of it. You’ve come across the devil—he isn’t + always black—and you’ve not had your neck wrung. I wear a woollen + suit, but I’m no sheep.* Go and burn a candle to your <i>majari</i>,** she + deserves it well. Come, good-by once more. Don’t think any more about <i>La + Carmencita</i>, or she’ll end by making you marry a widow with wooden + legs.‘*** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Me dicas vriarda de jorpoy, bus ne sino braco</i>.—A gipsy + proverb. + + ** The Saint, the Holy Virgin. + + *** The gallows, which is the widow of the last man hanged + upon it. +</pre> + <p> + “As she spoke, she drew back the bar that closed the door, and once we + were out in the street she wrapped her mantilla about her, and turned on + her heel. + </p> + <p> + “She spoke the truth. I should have done far better never to think of her + again. But after that day in the <i>Calle del Candilejo</i> I couldn’t + think of anything else. All day long I used to walk about, hoping I might + meet her. I sought news of her from the old hag, and from the fried-fish + seller. They both told me she had gone away to <i>Laloro</i>, which is + their name for Portugal. They probably said it by Carmen’s orders, but I + soon found out they were lying. Some weeks after my day in the <i>Calle + del Candilejo</i> I was on duty at one of the town gates. A little way + from the gate there was a breach in the wall. The masons were working at + it in the daytime, and at night a sentinel was posted on it, to prevent + smugglers from getting in. All through one day I saw Lillas Pastia going + backward and forward near the guard-room, and talking to some of my + comrades. They all knew him well, and his fried-fish and fritters even + better. He came up to me, and asked if I had any news of Carmen. + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ said I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ said he, ‘you’ll soon hear of her, old fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + “He was not mistaken. That night I was posted to guard the breach in the + wall. As soon as the sergeant had disappeared I saw a woman coming toward + me. My heart told me it was Carmen. Still I shouted: + </p> + <p> + “‘Keep off! Nobody can pass here!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Now, don’t be spiteful,’ she said, making herself known to me. + </p> + <p> + “‘What! you here, Carmen?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, <i>mi payllo</i>. Let us say few words, but wise ones. Would you + like to earn a douro? Some people will be coming with bundles. Let them + alone.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ said I, ‘I must not allow them through. These are my orders.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Orders! orders! You didn’t think about orders in the <i>Calle del + Candilejo</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah!’ I cried, quite maddened by the very thought of that night. ‘It was + well worth while to forget my orders for that! But I won’t have any + smuggler’s money!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, if you won’t have money, shall we go and dine together at old + Dorotea’s?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ said I, half choked by the effort it cost me. ‘No, I can’t.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Very good! If you make so many difficulties, I know to whom I can go. + I’ll ask your officer if he’ll come with me to Dorotea’s. He looks + good-natured, and he’ll post a sentry who’ll only see what he had better + see. Good-bye, canary-bird! I shall have a good laugh the day the order + comes out to hang you!’ + </p> + <p> + “I was weak enough to call her back, and I promised to let the whole of + gipsydom pass in, if that were necessary, so that I secured the only + reward I longed for. She instantly swore she would keep her word + faithfully the very next day, and ran off to summon her friends, who were + close by. There were five of them, of whom Pastia was one, all well loaded + with English goods. Carmen kept watch for them. She was to warn them with + her castanets the instant she caught sight of the patrol. But there was no + necessity for that. The smugglers finished their job in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The next day I went to the <i>Calle del Candilejo</i>. Carmen kept me + waiting, and when she came, she was in rather a bad temper. + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t like people who have to be pressed,’ she said. ‘You did me a + much greater service the first time, without knowing you’d gain anything + by it. Yesterday you bargained with me. I don’t know why I’ve come, for I + don’t care for you any more. Here, be off with you. Here’s a douro for + your trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + “I very nearly threw the coin at her head, and I had to make a violent + effort to prevent myself from actually beating her. After we had wrangled + for an hour I went off in a fury. For some time I wandered about the town, + walking hither and thither like a madman. At last I went into a church, + and getting into the darkest corner I could find, I cried hot tears. All + at once I heard a voice. + </p> + <p> + “‘A dragoon in tears. I’ll make a philter of them!’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked up. There was Carmen in front of me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, <i>mi payllo</i>, are you still angry with me?’ she said. ‘I must + care for you in spite of myself, for since you left me I don’t know what + has been the matter with me. Look you, it is I who ask you to come to the + <i>Calle del Candilejo</i>, now!’ + </p> + <p> + “So we made it up: but Carmen’s temper was like the weather in our + country. The storm is never so close, in our mountains, as when the sun is + at its brightest. She had promised to meet me again at Dorotea’s, but she + didn’t come. + </p> + <p> + “And Dorotea began telling me again that she had gone off to Portugal + about some gipsy business. + </p> + <p> + “As experience had already taught me how much of that I was to believe, I + went about looking for Carmen wherever I thought she might be, and twenty + times in every day I walked through the <i>Calle del Candilejo</i>. One + evening I was with Dorotea, whom I had almost tamed by giving her a glass + of anisette now and then, when Carmen walked in, followed by a young man, + a lieutenant in our regiment. + </p> + <p> + “‘Get away at once,’ she said to me in Basque. I stood there, dumfounded, + my heart full of rage. + </p> + <p> + “‘What are you doing here?’ said the lieutenant to me. ‘Take yourself off—get + out of this.’ + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t move a step. I felt paralyzed. The officer grew angry, and + seeing I did not go out, and had not even taken off my forage cap, he + caught me by the collar and shook me roughly. I don’t know what I said to + him. He drew his sword, and I unsheathed mine. The old woman caught hold + of my arm, and the lieutenant gave me a wound on the forehead, of which I + still bear the scar. I made a step backward, and with one jerk of my elbow + I threw old Dorotea down. Then, as the lieutenant still pressed me, I + turned the point of my sword against his body and he ran upon it. Then + Carmen put out the lamp and told Dorotea, in her own language, to take to + flight. I fled into the street myself, and began running along, I knew not + whither. It seemed to me that some one was following me. When I came to + myself I discovered that Carmen had never left me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Great stupid of a canary-bird!’ she said, ‘you never make anything but + blunders. And, indeed, you know I told you I should bring you bad luck. + But come, there’s a cure for everything when you have a Fleming from Rome* + for your love. Begin by rolling this handkerchief round your head, and + throw me over that belt of yours. Wait for me in this alley—I’ll be + back in two minutes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Flamenco de Roma</i>, a slang term for the gipsies. Roma + does not stand for the Eternal City, but for the nation of + the <i>romi</i>, or the married folk—a name applied by the + gipsies to themselves. The first gipsies seen in Spain + probably came from the Low Countries, hence their name of + <i>Flemings</i>. +</pre> + <p> + “She disappeared, and soon came back bringing me a striped cloak which she + had gone to fetch, I knew not whence. She made me take off my uniform, and + put on the cloak over my shirt. Thus dressed, and with the wound on my + head bound round with the handkerchief, I was tolerably like a Valencian + peasant, many of whom come to Seville to sell a drink they make out of ‘<i>chufas</i>.‘* + Then she took me to a house very much like Dorotea’s, at the bottom of a + little lane. Here she and another gipsy woman washed and dressed my + wounds, better than any army surgeon could have done, gave me something, I + know not what, to drink, and finally made me lie down on a mattress, on + which I went to sleep. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * A bulbous root, out of which rather a pleasant beverage is + manufactured. +</pre> + <p> + “Probably the woman had mixed one of the soporific drugs of which they + know the secret in my drink, for I did not wake up till very late the next + day. I was rather feverish, and had a violent headache. It was some time + before the memory of the terrible scene in which I had taken part on the + previous night came back to me. After having dressed my wound, Carmen and + her friend, squatting on their heels beside my mattress, exchanged a few + words of ‘<i>chipe calli</i>,’ which appeared to me to be something in the + nature of a medical consultation. Then they both of them assured me that I + should soon be cured, but that I must get out of Seville at the earliest + possible moment, for that, if I was caught there, I should most + undoubtedly be shot. + </p> + <p> + “‘My boy,’ said Carmen to me, ‘you’ll have to do something. Now that the + king won’t give you either rice or haddock* you’ll have to think of + earning your livelihood. You’re too stupid for stealing <i>a pastesas</i>.** + But you are brave and active. If you have the pluck, take yourself off to + the coast and turn smuggler. Haven’t I promised to get you hanged? That’s + better than being shot, and besides, if you set about it properly, you’ll + live like a prince as long as the <i>minons</i>*** and the coast-guard + don’t lay their hands on your collar.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The ordinary food of a Spanish soldier. + + ** <i>Ustilar a pastesas</i>, to steal cleverly, to purloin + without violence. + + *** A sort of volunteer corps. +</pre> + <p> + “In this attractive guise did this fiend of a girl describe the new career + she was suggesting to me,—the only one, indeed, remaining, now I had + incurred the penalty of death. Shall I confess it, sir? She persuaded me + without much difficulty. This wild and dangerous life, it seemed to me, + would bind her and me more closely together. In future, I thought, I + should be able to make sure of her love. + </p> + <p> + “I had often heard talk of certain smugglers who travelled about + Andalusia, each riding a good horse, with his mistress behind him and his + blunderbuss in his fist. Already I saw myself trotting up and down the + world, with a pretty gipsy behind me. When I mentioned that notion to her, + she laughed till she had to hold her sides, and vowed there was nothing in + the world so delightful as a night spent camping in the open air, when + each <i>rom</i> retired with his <i>romi</i> beneath their little tent, + made of three hoops with a blanket thrown across them. + </p> + <p> + “‘If I take to the mountains,’ said I to her, ‘I shall be sure of you. + There’ll be no lieutenant there to go shares with me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ha! ha! you’re jealous!’ she retorted, ‘so much the worse for you. How + can you be such a fool as that? Don’t you see I must love you, because I + have never asked you for money?’ + </p> + <p> + “When she said that sort to thing I could have strangled her. + </p> + <p> + “To shorten the story, sir, Carmen procured me civilian clothes, disguised + in which I got out of Seville without being recognised. I went to Jerez, + with a letter from Pastia to a dealer in anisette whose house was the + smugglers’ meeting-place. I was introduced to them, and their leader, + surnamed <i>El Dancaire</i>, enrolled me in his gang. We started for + Gaucin, where I found Carmen, who had told me she would meet me there. In + all these expeditions she acted as spy for our gang, and she was the best + that ever was seen. She had now just returned from Gibraltar, and had + already arranged with the captain of a ship for a cargo of English goods + which we were to receive on the coast. We went to meet it near Estepona. + We hid part in the mountains, and laden with the rest, we proceeded to + Ronda. Carmen had gone there before us. It was she again who warned us + when we had better enter the town. This first journey, and several + subsequent ones, turned out well. I found the smuggler’s life pleasanter + than a soldier’s: I could give presents to Carmen, I had money, and I had + a mistress. I felt little or no remorse, for, as the gipsies say, ‘The + happy man never longs to scratch his itch.’ We were made welcome + everywhere, my comrades treated me well, and even showed me a certain + respect. The reason of this was that I had killed my man, and that some of + them had no exploit of that description on their conscience. But what I + valued most in my new life was that I often saw Carmen. She showed me more + affection than ever; nevertheless, she would never admit, before my + comrades, that she was my mistress, and she had even made me swear all + sorts of oaths that I would not say anything about her to them. I was so + weak in that creature’s hands, that I obeyed all her whims. And besides, + this was the first time she had revealed herself as possessing any of the + reserve of a well-conducted woman, and I was simple enough to believe she + had really cast off her former habits. + </p> + <p> + “Our gang, which consisted of eight or ten men, was hardly ever together + except at decisive moments, and we were usually scattered by twos and + threes about the towns and villages. Each one of us pretended to have some + trade. One was a tinker, another was a groom; I was supposed to peddle + haberdashery, but I hardly ever showed myself in large places, on account + of my unlucky business at Seville. One day, or rather one night, we were + to meet below Veger. <i>El Dancaire</i> and I got there before the others. + </p> + <p> + “‘We shall soon have a new comrade,’ said he. ‘Carmen has just managed one + of her best tricks. She has contrived the escape of her <i>rom</i>, who + was in the <i>presidio</i> at Tarifa.’ + </p> + <p> + “I was already beginning to understand the gipsy language, which nearly + all my comrades spoke, and this word <i>rom</i> startled me. + </p> + <p> + “What! her husband? Is she married, then?’ said I to the captain. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes!’ he replied, ‘married to Garcia <i>el Tuerto</i>*—as cunning + a gipsy as she is herself. The poor fellow has been at the galleys. Carmen + has wheedled the surgeon of the <i>presidio</i> to such good purpose that + she has managed to get her <i>rom</i> out of prison. Faith! that girl’s + worth her weight in gold. For two years she has been trying to contrive + his escape, but she could do nothing until the authorities took it into + their heads to change the surgeon. She soon managed to come to an + understanding with this new one.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * One-eyed man. +</pre> + <p> + “You may imagine how pleasant this news was for me. I soon saw Garcia <i>el + Tuerto</i>. He was the very ugliest brute that was ever nursed in + gipsydom. His skin was black, his soul was blacker, and he was altogether + the most thorough-paced ruffian I ever came across in my life. Carmen + arrived with him, and when she called him her <i>rom</i> in my presence, + you should have seen the eyes she made at me, and the faces she pulled + whenever Garcia turned his head away. + </p> + <p> + “I was disgusted, and never spoke a word to her all night. The next + morning we had made up our packs, and had already started, when we became + aware that we had a dozen horsemen on our heels. The braggart Andalusians, + who had been boasting they would murder every one who came near them, cut + a pitiful figure at once. There was a general rout. <i>El Dancaire</i>, + Garcia, a good-looking fellow from Ecija, who was called <i>El Remendado</i>, + and Carmen herself, kept their wits about them. The rest forsook the mules + and took to the gorges, where the horses could not follow them. There was + no hope of saving the mules, so we hastily unstrapped the best part of our + booty, and taking it on our shoulders, we tried to escape through the + rocks down the steepest of the slopes. We threw our packs down in front of + us and followed them as best we could, slipping along on our heels. + Meanwhile the enemy fired at us. It was the first time I had ever heard + bullets whistling around me and I didn’t mind it very much. When there’s a + woman looking on, there’s no particular merit in snapping one’s fingers at + death. We all escaped except the poor <i>Remendado</i>, who received a + bullet wound in the loins. I threw away my pack and tried to lift him up. + </p> + <p> + “‘Idiot!’ shouted Garcia, ‘what do we want with offal! Finish him off, and + don’t lose the cotton stockings!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Drop him!’ cried Carmen. + </p> + <p> + “I was so exhausted that I was obliged to lay him down for a moment under + a rock. Garcia came up, and fired his blunderbuss full into his face. + ‘He’d be a clever fellow who recognised him now!’ said he, as he looked at + the face, cut to pieces by a dozen slugs. + </p> + <p> + “There, sir; that’s the delightful sort of life I’ve led! That night we + found ourselves in a thicket, worn out with fatigue, with nothing to eat, + and ruined by the loss of our mules. What do you think that devil Garcia + did? He pulled a pack of cards out of his pocket and began playing games + with <i>El Dancaire</i> by the light of a fire they kindled. Meanwhile I + was lying down, staring at the stars, thinking of <i>El Remendado</i>, and + telling myself I would just as lief be in his place. Carmen was squatting + down near me, and every now and then she would rattle her castanets and + hum a tune. Then, drawing close to me, as if she would have whispered in + my ear, she kissed me two or three times over almost against my will. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are a devil,’ said I to her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ she replied. + </p> + <p> + “After a few hours’ rest, she departed to Gaucin, and the next morning a + little goatherd brought us some food. We stayed there all that day, and in + the evening we moved close to Gaucin. We were expecting news from Carmen, + but none came. After daylight broke we saw a muleteer attending a + well-dressed woman with a parasol, and a little girl who seemed to be her + servant. Said Garcia, ‘There go two mules and two women whom St. Nicholas + has sent us. I would rather have had four mules, but no matter. I’ll do + the best I can with these.’ + </p> + <p> + “He took his blunderbuss, and went down the pathway, hiding himself among + the brushwood. + </p> + <p> + “We followed him, <i>El Dancaire</i> and I keeping a little way behind. As + soon as the woman saw us, instead of being frightened—and our dress + would have been enough to frighten any one—she burst into a fit of + loud laughter. ‘Ah! the <i>lillipendi</i>! They take me for an <i>erani</i>!’ * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * “The idiots, they take me for a smart lady!” + </pre> + <p> + “It was Carmen, but so well disguised that if she had spoken any other + language I should never have recognised her. She sprang off her mule, and + talked some time in an undertone with <i>El Dancaire</i> and Garcia. Then + she said to me: + </p> + <p> + “‘Canary-bird, we shall meet again before you’re hanged. I’m off to + Gibraltar on gipsy business—you’ll soon have news of me.’ + </p> + <p> + “We parted, after she had told us of a place where we should find shelter + for some days. That girl was the providence of our gang. We soon received + some money sent by her, and a piece of news which was still more useful to + us—to the effect that on a certain day two English lords would + travel from Gibraltar to Granada by a road she mentioned. This was a word + to the wise. They had plenty of good guineas. Garcia would have killed + them, but <i>El Dancaire</i> and I objected. All we took from them, + besides their shirts, which we greatly needed, was their money and their + watches. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, a man may turn rogue in sheer thoughtlessness. You lose your head + over a pretty girl, you fight another man about her, there is a + catastrophe, you have to take to the mountains, and you turn from a + smuggler into a robber before you have time to think about it. After this + matter of the English lords, we concluded that the neighbourhood of + Gibraltar would not be healthy for us, and we plunged into the <i>Sierra + de Ronda</i>. You once mentioned Jose-Maria to me. Well, it was there I + made acquaintance with him. He always took his mistress with him on his + expeditions. She was a pretty girl, quiet, modest, well-mannered, you + never heard a vulgar word from her, and she was quite devoted to him. He, + on his side, led her a very unhappy life. He was always running after + other women, he ill-treated her, and then sometimes he would take it into + his head to be jealous. One day he slashed her with a knife. Well, she + only doted on him the more! That’s the way with women, and especially with + Andalusians. This girl was proud of the scar on her arm, and would display + it as though it were the most beautiful thing in the world. And then + Jose-Maria was the worst of comrades in the bargain. In one expedition we + made with him, he managed so that he kept all the profits, and we had all + the trouble and the blows. But I must go back to my story. We had no sign + at all from Carmen. <i>El Dancaire</i> said: ‘One of us will have to go to + Gibraltar to get news of her. She must have planned some business. I’d go + at once, only I’m too well known at Gibraltar.’ <i>El Tuerto</i> said: + </p> + <p> + “‘I’m well known there too. I’ve played so many tricks on the crayfish*—and + as I’ve only one eye, it is not overeasy for me to disguise myself.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Name applied by the Spanish populace to the British + soldiers, on account of the colour of their uniform. +</pre> + <p> + “‘Then I suppose I must go,’ said I, delighted at the very idea of seeing + Carmen again. ‘Well, how am I to set about it?’ + </p> + <p> + “The others answered: + </p> + <p> + “‘You must either go by sea, or you must get through by San Rocco, + whichever you like the best; once you are in Gibraltar, inquire in the + port where a chocolate-seller called <i>La Rollona</i> lives. When you’ve + found her, she’ll tell you everything that’s happening.’ + </p> + <p> + “It was settled that we were all to start for the Sierra, that I was to + leave my two companions there, and take my way to Gibraltar, in the + character of a fruit-seller. At Ronda one of our men procured me a + passport; at Gaucin I was provided with a donkey. I loaded it with oranges + and melons, and started forth. When I reached Gibraltar I found that many + people knew <i>La Rollona</i>, but that she was either dead or had gone <i>ad + finibus terroe</i>,* and, to my mind, her disappearance explained the + failure of our correspondence with Carmen. I stabled my donkey, and began + to move about the town, carrying my oranges as though to sell them, but in + reality looking to see whether I could not come across any face I knew. + The place is full of ragamuffins from every country in the world, and it + really is like the Tower of Babel, for you can’t go ten paces along a + street without hearing as many languages. I did see some gipsies, but I + hardly dared confide in them. I was taking stock of them, and they were + taking stock of me. We had mutually guessed each other to be rogues, but + the important thing for us was to know whether we belonged to the same + gang. After having spent two days in fruitless wanderings, and having + found out nothing either as to <i>La Rollona</i> or as to Carmen, I was + thinking I would go back to my comrades as soon as I had made a few + purchases, when, toward sunset, as I was walking along a street, I heard a + woman’s voice from a window say, ‘Orange-seller!’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * To the galleys, or else to all the devils in hell. +</pre> + <p> + “I looked up, and on a balcony I saw Carmen looking out, beside a + scarlet-coated officer with gold epaulettes, curly hair, and all the + appearance of a rich <i>milord</i>. As for her, she was magnificently + dressed, a shawl hung on her shoulders, she’d a gold comb in her hair, + everything she wore was of silk; and the cunning little wretch, not a bit + altered, was laughing till she held her sides. + </p> + <p> + “The Englishman shouted to me in mangled Spanish to come upstairs, as the + lady wanted some oranges, and Carmen said to me in Basque: + </p> + <p> + “‘Come up, and don’t look astonished at anything!’ + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, nothing that she did ought ever to have astonished me. I don’t + know whether I was most happy or wretched at seeing her again. At the door + of the house there was a tall English servant with a powdered head, who + ushered me into a splendid drawing-room. Instantly Carmen said to me in + Basque, ‘You don’t know one word of Spanish, and you don’t know me.’ Then + turning to the Englishman, she added: + </p> + <p> + “‘I told you so. I saw at once he was a Basque. Now you’ll hear what a + queer language he speaks. Doesn’t he look silly? He’s like a cat that’s + been caught in the larder!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And you,’ said I to her in my own language, ‘you look like an impudent + jade—and I’ve a good mind to scar your face here and now, before + your spark.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘My spark!’ said she. ‘Why, you’ve guessed that all alone! Are you + jealous of this idiot? You’re even sillier than you were before our + evening in the <i>Calle del Candilejo</i>! Don’t you see, fool, that at + this moment I’m doing gipsy business, and doing it in the most brilliant + manner? This house belongs to me—the guineas of that crayfish will + belong to me! I lead him by the nose, and I’ll lead him to a place that + he’ll never get out of!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And if I catch you doing any gipsy business in this style again, I’ll + see to it that you never do any again!’ said I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! upon my word! Are you my <i>rom</i>, pray that you give me orders? + If <i>El Tuerto</i> is pleased, what have you to do with it? Oughtn’t you + to be very happy that you are the only man who can call himself my <i>minchorro</i>?’ * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * My “lover,” or rather my “fancy.” + </pre> + <p> + “‘What does he say?’ inquired the Englishman. + </p> + <p> + “‘He says he’s thirsty, and would like a drink,’ answered Carmen, and she + threw herself back upon a sofa, screaming with laughter at her own + translation. + </p> + <p> + “When that girl begins to laugh, sir, it was hopeless for anybody to try + and talk sense. Everybody laughed with her. The big Englishman began to + laugh too, like the idiot he was, and ordered the servant to bring me + something to drink. + </p> + <p> + “While I was drinking she said to me: + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you see that ring he has on his finger? If you like I’ll give it to + you.’ + </p> + <p> + “And I answered: + </p> + <p> + “‘I would give one of my fingers to have your <i>milord</i> out on the + mountains, and each of us with a <i>maquila</i> in his fist.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Maquila</i>, what does that mean?’ asked the Englishman. + </p> + <p> + “‘Maquila,’ said Carmen, still laughing, ‘means an orange. Isn’t it a + queer word for an orange? He says he’d like you to eat <i>maquila</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Does he?’ said the Englishman. ‘Very well, bring more <i>maquila</i> + to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + “While we were talking a servant came in and said dinner was ready. Then + the Englishman stood up, gave me a piastre, and offered his arm to Carmen, + as if she couldn’t have walked alone. Carmen, who was still laughing, said + to me: + </p> + <p> + “‘My boy, I can’t ask you to dinner. But to-morrow, as soon as you hear + the drums beat for parade, come here with your oranges. You’ll find a + better furnished room than the one in the <i>Calle del Candilejo</i>, and + you’ll see whether I am still your <i>Carmencita</i>. Then afterwards + we’ll talk about gipsy business.’ + </p> + <p> + “I gave her no answer—even when I was in the street I could hear the + Englishman shouting, ‘Bring more <i>maquila</i> to-morrow,’ and Carmen’s + peals of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I went out, not knowing what I should do; I hardly slept, and next + morning I was so enraged with the treacherous creature that I made up my + mind to leave Gibraltar without seeing her again. But the moment the drums + began to roll, my courage failed me. I took up my net full of oranges, and + hurried off to Carmen’s house. Her window-shutters had been pulled apart a + little, and I saw her great dark eyes watching for me. The powdered + servant showed me in at once. Carmen sent him out with a message, and as + soon as we were alone she burst into one of her fits of crocodile laughter + and threw her arms around my neck. Never had I seen her look so beautiful. + She was dressed out like a queen, and scented; she had silken furniture, + embroidered curtains—and I togged out like the thief I was! + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Minchorro</i>,’ said Carmen, ‘I’ve a good mind to smash up everything + here, set fire to the house, and take myself off to the mountains.’ And + then she would fondle me, and then she would laugh, and she danced about + and tore up her fripperies. Never did monkey gambol nor make such faces, + nor play such wild tricks, as she did that day. When she had recovered her + gravity— + </p> + <p> + “‘Hark!’ she said, ‘this is gipsy business. I mean him to take me to + Ronda, where I have a sister who is a nun’ (here she shrieked with + laughter again). ‘We shall pass by a particular spot which I shall make + known to you. Then you must fall upon him and strip him to the skin. Your + best plan would be to do for him, but,’ she added, with a certain fiendish + smile of hers, which no one who saw it ever had any desire to imitate, ‘do + you know what you had better do? Let <i>El Tuerto</i> come up in front of + you. You keep a little behind. The crayfish is brave, and skilful too, and + he has good pistols. Do you understand?’ + </p> + <p> + “And she broke off with another fit of laughter that made me shiver. + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ said I, ‘I hate Garcia, but he’s my comrade. Some day, maybe, I’ll + rid you of him, but we’ll settle our account after the fashion of my + country. It’s only chance that has made me a gipsy, and in certain things + I shall always be a thorough Navarrese,* as the proverb says. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Navarro fino</i>. +</pre> + <p> + “‘You’re a fool,’ she rejoined, ‘a simpleton, a regular <i>payllo</i>. + You’re just like the dwarf who thinks himself tall because he can spit a + long way.* You don’t love me! Be off with you!’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>Or esorjle de or marsichisle, sin chisnar lachinguel</i>. + “The promise of a dwarf is that he will spit a long way.”—A + gipsy proverb. +</pre> + <p> + “Whenever she said to me ‘Be off with you,” I couldn’t go away. I promised + I would start back to my comrades and wait the arrival of the Englishman. + She, on her side, promised she would be ill until she left Gibraltar for + Ronda. + </p> + <p> + “I remained at Gibraltar two days longer. She had the boldness to disguise + herself and come and see me at the inn. I departed, I had a plan of my + own. I went back to our meeting-place with the information as to the spot + and the hour at which the Englishman and Carmen were to pass by. I found + <i>El Dancaire</i> and Garcia waiting for me. We spent the night in a + wood, beside a fire made of pine-cones that blazed splendidly. I suggested + to Garcia that we should play cards, and he agreed. In the second game I + told him he was cheating; he began to laugh; I threw the cards in his + face. He tried to get at his blunderbuss. I set my foot on it, and said, + ‘They say you can use a knife as well as the best ruffian in Malaga; will + you try it with me?’ <i>El Dancaire</i> tried to part us. I had given + Garcia one or two cuffs, his rage had given him courage, he drew his + knife, and I drew mine. We both of us told <i>El Dancaire</i> he must + leave us alone, and let us fight it out. He saw there was no means of + stopping us, so he stood on one side. Garcia was already bent double, like + a cat ready to spring upon a mouse. He held his hat in his left hand to + parry with, and his knife in front of him—that’s their Andalusian + guard. I stood up in the Navarrese fashion, with my left arm raised, my + left leg forward, and my knife held straight along my right thigh. I felt + I was stronger than any giant. He flew at me like an arrow. I turned round + on my left foot, so that he found nothing in front of him. But I thrust + him in the throat, and the knife went in so far that my hand was under his + chin. I gave the blade such a twist that it broke. That was the end. The + blade was carried out of the wound by a gush of blood as thick as my arm, + and he fell full length on his face. + </p> + <p> + “‘What have you done?’ said <i>El Dancaire</i> to me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hark ye,’ said I, ‘we couldn’t live on together. I love Carmen and I + mean to be the only one. And besides, Garcia was a villain. I remember + what he did to that poor <i>Remendado</i>. There are only two of us left + now, but we are both good fellows. Come, will you have me for your friend, + for life or death?’ + </p> + <p> + “<i>El Dancaire</i> stretched out his hand. He was a man of fifty. + </p> + <p> + “‘Devil take these love stories!’ he cried. ‘If you’d asked him for Carmen + he’d have sold her to you for a piastre! There are only two of us now—how + shall we manage for to-morrow?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I’ll manage it all alone,’ I answered. ‘I can snap my fingers at the + whole world now.’ + </p> + <p> + “We buried Garcia, and we moved our camp two hundred paces farther on. The + next morning Carmen and her Englishman came along with two muleteers and a + servant. I said to <i>El Dancaire</i>: + </p> + <p> + “‘I’ll look after the Englishman, you frighten the others—they’re + not armed!’ + </p> + <p> + “The Englishman was a plucky fellow. He’d have killed me if Carmen hadn’t + jogged his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “To put it shortly, I won Carmen back that day, and my first words were to + tell her she was a widow. + </p> + <p> + “When she knew how it had all happened— + </p> + <p> + “‘You’ll always be a <i>lillipendi</i>,’ she said. ‘Garcia ought to have + killed you. Your Navarrese guard is a pack of nonsense, and he has sent + far more skilful men than you into the darkness. It was just that his time + had come—and yours will come too.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ay, and yours too!—if you’re not a faithful <i>romi</i> to me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘So be it,’ said she. ‘I’ve read in the coffee grounds, more than once, + that you and I were to end our lives together. Pshaw! what must be, will + be!’ and she rattled her castanets, as was her way when she wanted to + drive away some worrying thought. + </p> + <p> + “One runs on when one is talking about one’s self. I dare say all these + details bore you, but I shall soon be at the end of my story. Our new life + lasted for some considerable time. <i>El Dancaire</i> and I gathered a few + comrades about us, who were more trustworthy than our earlier ones, and we + turned our attention to smuggling. Occasionally, indeed, I must confess we + stopped travellers on the highways, but never unless we were at the last + extremity, and could not avoid doing so; and besides, we never ill-treated + the travellers, and confined ourselves to taking their money from them. + </p> + <p> + “For some months I was very well satisfied with Carmen. She still served + us in our smuggling operations, by giving us notice of any opportunity of + making a good haul. She remained either at Malaga, at Cordova, or at + Granada, but at a word from me she would leave everything, and come to + meet me at some <i>venta</i> or even in our lonely camp. Only once—it + was at Malaga—she caused me some uneasiness. I heard she had fixed + her fancy upon a very rich merchant, with whom she probably proposed to + play her Gibraltar trick over again. In spite of everything <i>El Dancaire</i> + said to stop me, I started off, walked into Malaga in broad daylight, + sought for Carmen and carried her off instantly. We had a sharp + altercation. + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you know,’ said she, ‘now that you’re my <i>rom</i> for good and all, + I don’t care for you so much as when you were my <i>minchorro</i>! I won’t + be worried, and above all, I won’t be ordered about. I choose to be free + to do as I like. Take care you don’t drive me too far; if you tire me out, + I’ll find some good fellow who’ll serve you just as you served <i>El + Tuerto</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “<i>El Dancaire</i> patched it up between us; but we had said things to + each other that rankled in our hearts, and we were not as we had been + before. Shortly after that we had a misfortune: the soldiers caught us, <i>El + Dancaire</i> and two of my comrades were killed; two others were taken. I + was sorely wounded, and, but for my good horse, I should have fallen into + the soldiers’ hands. Half dead with fatigue, and with a bullet in my body, + I sought shelter in a wood, with my only remaining comrade. When I got off + my horse I fainted away, and I thought I was going to die there in the + brushwood, like a shot hare. My comrade carried me to a cave he knew of, + and then he sent to fetch Carmen. + </p> + <p> + “She was at Granada, and she hurried to me at once. For a whole fortnight + she never left me for a single instant. She never closed her eyes; she + nursed me with a skill and care such as no woman ever showed to the man + she loved most tenderly. As soon as I could stand on my feet, she conveyed + me with the utmost secrecy to Granada. These gipsy women find safe shelter + everywhere, and I spent more than six weeks in a house only two doors from + that of the <i>Corregidor</i> who was trying to arrest me. More than once + I saw him pass by, from behind the shutter. At last I recovered, but I had + thought a great deal, on my bed of pain, and I had planned to change my + way of life. I suggested to Carmen that we should leave Spain, and seek an + honest livelihood in the New World. She laughed in my face. + </p> + <p> + “‘We were not born to plant cabbages,’ she cried. ‘Our fate is to live <i>payllos</i>! + Listen: I’ve arranged a business with Nathan Ben-Joseph at Gibraltar. He + has cotton stuffs that he can not get through till you come to fetch them. + He knows you’re alive, and reckons upon you. What would our Gibraltar + correspondents say if you failed them?’ + </p> + <p> + “I let myself by persuaded, and took up my vile trade once more. + </p> + <p> + “While I was hiding at Granada there were bull-fights there, to which + Carmen went. When she came back she talked a great deal about a skilful <i>picador</i> + of the name of Lucas. She knew the name of his horse, and how much his + embroidered jacket had cost him. I paid no attention to this; but a few + days later, Juanito, the only one of my comrades who was left, told me he + had seen Carmen with Lucas in a shop in the Zacatin. Then I began to feel + alarmed. I asked Carmen how and why she had made the <i>picador’s</i> + acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “‘He’s a man out of whom we may be able to get something,’ said she. ‘A + noisy stream has either water in it or pebbles. He has earned twelve + hundred reals at the bull-fights. It must be one of two things: we must + either have his money, or else, as he is a good rider and a plucky fellow, + we can enroll him in our gang. We have lost such an one an such an one; + you’ll have to replace them. Take this man with you!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I want neither his money nor himself,’ I replied, ‘and I forbid you to + speak to him.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Beware!’ she retorted. ‘If any one defies me to do a thing, it’s very + quickly done.’ + </p> + <p> + “Luckily the <i>picador</i> departed to Malaga, and I set about passing in + the Jew’s cotton stuffs. This expedition gave me a great deal to do, and + Carmen as well. I forgot Lucas, and perhaps she forgot him too—for + the moment, at all events. It was just about that time, sir, that I met + you, first at Montilla, and then afterward at Cordova. I won’t talk about + that last interview. You know more about it, perhaps, than I do. Carmen + stole your watch from you, she wanted to have your money besides, and + especially that ring I see on your finger, and which she declared to be a + magic ring, the possession of which was very important to her. We had a + violent quarrel, and I struck her. She turned pale and began to cry. It + was the first time I had ever seen her cry, and it affected me in the most + painful manner. I begged her to forgive me, but she sulked with me for a + whole day, and when I started back to Montilla she wouldn’t kiss me. My + heart was still very sore, when, three days later, she joined me with a + smiling face and as merry as a lark. Everything was forgotten, and we were + like a pair of honeymoon lovers. Just as we were parting she said, + ‘There’s a <i>fete</i> at Cordova; I shall go and see it, and then I shall + know what people will be coming away with money, and I can warn you.’ + </p> + <p> + “I let her go. When I was alone I thought about the <i>fete</i>, and about + the change in Carmen’s temper. ‘She must have avenged herself already,’ + said I to myself, ‘since she was the first to make our quarrel up.’ A + peasant told me there was to be bull-fighting at Cordova. Then my blood + began to boil, and I went off like a madman straight to the bull-ring. I + had Lucas pointed out to me, and on the bench, just beside the barrier, I + recognised Carmen. One glance at her was enough to turn my suspicion into + certainty. When the first bull appeared Lucas began, as I had expected to + play the agreeable; he snatched the cockade off the bull and presented it + to Carmen, who put it in her hair at once.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * <i>La divisa</i>. A knot of ribbon, the colour of which + indicates the pasturage from which each bull comes. This + knot of ribbon is fastened into the bull’s hide with a sort + of hook, and it is considered the very height of gallantry + to snatch it off the living beast and present it to a woman. +</pre> + <p> + “The bull avenged me. Lucas was knocked down, with his horse on his chest, + and the bull on top of both of them. I looked for Carmen, she had + disappeared from her place already. I couldn’t get out of mine, and I was + obliged to wait until the bull-fight was over. Then I went off to that + house you already know, and waited there quietly all that evening and part + of the night. Toward two o’clock in the morning Carmen came back, and was + rather surprised to see me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Come with me,’ said I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Very well,’ said she, ‘let’s be off.’ + </p> + <p> + “I went and got my horse, and took her up behind me, and we travelled all + the rest of the night without saying a word to each other. When daylight + came we stopped at a lonely inn, not far from a hermitage. There I said to + Carmen: + </p> + <p> + “‘Listen—I forget everything, I won’t mention anything to you. But + swear one thing to me—that you’ll come with me to America, and live + there quietly!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ said she, in a sulky voice, ‘I won’t go to America—I am very + well here.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That’s because you’re near Lucas. But be very sure that even if he gets + well now, he won’t make old bones. And, indeed, why should I quarrel with + him? I’m tired of killing all your lovers; I’ll kill you this time.’ + </p> + <p> + “She looked at me steadily with her wild eyes, and then she said: + </p> + <p> + “‘I’ve always thought you would kill me. The very first time I saw you I + had just met a priest at the door of my house. And to-night, as we were + going out of Cordova, didn’t you see anything? A hare ran across the road + between your horse’s feet. It is fate.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Carmencita,’ I asked, ‘don’t you love me any more?’ + </p> + <p> + “She gave me no answer, she was sitting cross-legged on a mat, making + marks on the ground with her finger. + </p> + <p> + “‘Let us change our life, Carmen,’ said I imploringly. ‘Let us go away and + live somewhere we shall never be parted. You know we have a hundred and + twenty gold ounces buried under an oak not far from here, and then we have + more money with Ben-Joseph the Jew.’ + </p> + <p> + “She began to smile, and then she said, ‘Me first, and then you. I know it + will happen like that.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Think about it,’ said I. ‘I’ve come to the end of my patience and my + courage. Make up your mind—or else I must make up mine.’ + </p> + <p> + “I left her alone and walked toward the hermitage. I found the hermit + praying. I waited till his prayer was finished. I longed to pray myself, + but I couldn’t. When he rose up from his knees I went to him. + </p> + <p> + “‘Father,’ I said, ‘will you pray for some one who is in great danger?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I pray for every one who is afflicted,’ he replied. + </p> + <p> + “‘Can you say a mass for a soul which is perhaps about to go into the + presence of its Maker?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ he answered, looking hard at me. + </p> + <p> + “And as there was something strange about me, he tried to make me talk. + </p> + <p> + “‘It seems to me that I have seen you somewhere,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + “I laid a piastre on his bench. + </p> + <p> + “‘When shall you say the mass?’ said I. + </p> + <p> + “‘In half an hour. The son of the innkeeper yonder is coming to serve it. + Tell me, young man, haven’t you something on your conscience that is + tormenting you? Will you listen to a Christian’s counsel?’ + </p> + <p> + “I could hardly restrain my tears. I told him I would come back, and + hurried away. I went and lay down on the grass until I heard the bell. + Then I went back to the chapel, but I stayed outside it. When he had said + the mass, I went back to the <i>venta</i>. I was hoping Carmen would have + fled. She could have taken my horse and ridden away. But I found her there + still. She did not choose that any one should say I had frightened her. + While I had been away she had unfastened the hem of her gown and taken out + the lead that weighted it; and now she was sitting before a table, looking + into a bowl of water into which she had just thrown the lead she had + melted. She was so busy with her spells that at first she didn’t notice my + return. Sometimes she would take out a bit of lead and turn it round every + way with a melancholy look. Sometimes she would sing one of those magic + songs, which invoke the help of Maria Padella, Don Pedro’s mistress, who + is said to have been the <i>Bari Crallisa</i>—the great gipsy + queen.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Maria Padella was accused of having bewitched Don Pedro. + According to one popular tradition she presented Queen + Blanche of Bourbon with a golden girdle which, in the eyes + of the bewitched king, took on the appearance of a living + snake. Hence the repugnance he always showed toward the + unhappy princess. +</pre> + <p> + “‘Carmen,’ I said to her, ‘will you come with me?’ She rose, threw away + her wooden bowl, and put her mantilla over her head ready to start. My + horse was led up, she mounted behind me, and we rode away. + </p> + <p> + “After we had gone a little distance I said to her, ‘So, my Carmen, you + are quite ready to follow me, isn’t that so?’ + </p> + <p> + “She answered, ‘Yes, I’ll follow you, even to death—but I won’t live + with you any more.’ + </p> + <p> + “We had reached a lonely gorge. I stopped my horse. + </p> + <p> + “‘Is this the place?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + “And with a spring she reached the ground. She took off her mantilla and + threw it at her feet, and stood motionless, with one hand on her hip, + looking at me steadily. + </p> + <p> + “‘You mean to kill me, I see that well,’ said she. ‘It is fate. But you’ll + never make me give in.’ + </p> + <p> + “I said to her: ‘Be rational, I implore you; listen to me. All the past is + forgotten. Yet you know it is you who have been my ruin—it is + because of you that I am a robber and a murderer. Carmen, my Carmen, let + me save you, and save myself with you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Jose,’ she answered, ‘what you ask is impossible. I don’t love you any + more. You love me still, and that is why you want to kill me. If I liked, + I might tell you some other lie, but I don’t choose to give myself the + trouble. Everything is over between us two. You are my <i>rom</i>, and you + have the right to kill your <i>romi</i>, but Carmen will always be free. A + <i>calli</i> she was born, and a <i>calli</i> she’ll die.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then, you love Lucas?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, I have loved him—as I loved you—for an instant—less + than I loved you, perhaps. But now I don’t love anything, and I hate + myself for ever having loved you.’ + </p> + <p> + “I cast myself at her feet, I seized her hands, I watered them with my + tears, I reminded her of all the happy moments we had spent together, I + offered to continue my brigand’s life, if that would please her. + Everything, sir, everything—I offered her everything if she would + only love me again. + </p> + <p> + “She said: + </p> + <p> + “‘Love you again? That’s not possible! Live with you? I will not do it!’ + </p> + <p> + “I was wild with fury. I drew my knife, I would have had her look + frightened, and sue for mercy—but that woman was a demon. + </p> + <p> + “I cried, ‘For the last time I ask you. Will you stay with me?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No! no! no!’ she said, and she stamped her foot. + </p> + <p> + “Then she pulled a ring I had given her off her finger, and cast it into + the brushwood. + </p> + <p> + “I struck her twice over—I had taken Garcia’s knife, because I had + broken my own. At the second thrust she fell without a sound. It seems to + me that I can still see her great black eyes staring at me. Then they grew + dim and the lids closed. + </p> + <p> + “For a good hour I lay there prostrate beside her corpse. Then I + recollected that Carmen had often told me that she would like to lie + buried in a wood. I dug a grave for her with my knife and laid her in it. + I hunted about a long time for her ring, and I found it at last. I put it + into the grave beside her, with a little cross—perhaps I did wrong. + Then I got upon my horse, galloped to Cordova, and gave myself up at the + nearest guard-room. I told them I had killed Carmen, but I would not tell + them where her body was. That hermit was a holy man! He prayed for her—he + said a mass for her soul. Poor child! It’s the <i>calle</i> who are to + blame for having brought her up as they did.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Spain is one of the countries in which those nomads, scattered all over + Europe, and known as Bohemians, Gitanas, Gipsies, Ziegeuner, and so forth, + are now to be found in the greatest numbers. Most of these people live, or + rather wander hither and thither, in the southern and eastern provinces of + Spain, in Andalusia, and Estramadura, in the kingdom of Murcia. There are + a great many of them in Catalonia. These last frequently cross over into + France and are to be seen at all our southern fairs. The men generally + call themselves grooms, horse doctors, mule-clippers; to these trades they + add the mending of saucepans and brass utensils, not to mention smuggling + and other illicit practices. The women tell fortunes, beg, and sell all + sorts of drugs, some of which are innocent, while some are not. The + physical characteristics of the gipsies are more easily distinguished then + described, and when you have known one, you should be able to recognise a + member of the race among a thousand other men. It is by their physiognomy + and expression, especially, that they differ from the other inhabitants of + the same country. Their complexion is exceedingly swarthy, always darker + than that of the race among whom they live. Hence the name of <i>cale</i> + (blacks) which they frequently apply to themselves.* Their eyes, set with + a decided slant, are large, very black, and shaded by long and heavy + lashes. Their glance can only be compared to that of a wild creature. It + is full at once of boldness and shyness, and in this respect their eyes + are a fair indication of their national character, which is cunning, bold, + but with “the natural fear of blows,” like Panurge. Most of the men are + strapping fellows, slight and active. I don’t think I ever saw a gipsy who + had grown fat. In Germany the gipsy women are often very pretty; but + beauty is very uncommon among the Spanish gitanas. When very young, they + may pass as being attractive in their ugliness, but once they have reached + motherhood, they become absolutely repulsive. The filthiness of both sexes + is incredible, and no one who has not seen a gipsy matron’s hair can form + any conception of what it is, not even if he conjures up the roughest, the + greasiest, and the dustiest heads imaginable. In some of the large + Andalusian towns certain of the gipsy girls, somewhat better looking than + their fellows, will take more care of their personal appearance. These go + out and earn money by performing dances strongly resembling those + forbidden at our public balls in carnival time. An English missionary, Mr. + Borrow, the author of two very interesting works on the Spanish gipsies, + whom he undertook to convert on behalf of the Bible Society, declares + there is no instance of any gitana showing the smallest weakness for a man + not belonging to her own race. The praise he bestows upon their chastity + strikes me as being exceedingly exaggerated. In the first place, the great + majority are in the position of the ugly woman described by Ovid, “<i>Casta + quam nemo rogavit</i>.” As for the pretty ones, they are, like all Spanish + women, very fastidious in choosing their lovers. Their fancy must be + taken, and their favour must be earned. Mr. Borrow quotes, in proof of + their virtue, one trait which does honour to his own, and especially to + his simplicity: he declares that an immoral man of his acquaintance + offered several gold ounces to a pretty gitana, and offered them in vain. + An Andalusian, to whom I retailed this anecdote, asserted that the immoral + man in question would have been far more successful if he had shown the + girl two or three piastres, and that to offer gold ounces to a gipsy was + as poor a method of persuasion as to promise a couple of millions to a + tavern wench. However that may be, it is certain that the gitana shows the + most extraordinary devotion to her husband. There is no danger and no + suffering she will not brave, to help him in his need. One of the names + which the gipsies apply to themselves, <i>Rome</i>, or “the married + couple,” seems to me a proof of their racial respect for the married + state. Speaking generally, it may be asserted that their chief virtue is + their patriotism—if we may thus describe the fidelity they observe + in all their relations with persons of the same origin as their own, their + readiness to help one another, and the inviolable secrecy which they keep + for each other’s benefit, in all compromising matters. And indeed + something of the same sort may be noticed in all mysterious associations + which are beyond the pale of the law. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It has struck me that the German gipsies, though they + thoroughly understand the word <i>cale</i>, do not care to be + called by that name. Among themselves they always use the + designation <i>Romane tchave</i>. +</pre> + <p> + Some months ago, I paid a visit to a gipsy tribe in the Vosges country. In + the hut of an old woman, the oldest member of the tribe, I found a gipsy, + in no way related to the family, who was sick of a mortal disease. The man + had left a hospital, where he was well cared for, so that he might die + among his own people. For thirteen weeks he had been lying in bed in their + encampment, and receiving far better treatment than any of the sons and + sons-in-law who shared his shelter. He had a good bed made of straw and + moss, and sheets that were tolerably white, whereas all the rest of the + family, which numbered eleven persons, slept on planks three feet long. So + much for their hospitality. This very same woman, humane as was her + treatment of her guest said to me constantly before the sick man: “<i>Singo, + singo, homte hi mulo</i>.” “Soon, soon he must die!” After all, these + people live such miserable lives, that a reference to the approach of + death can have no terrors for them. + </p> + <p> + One remarkable feature in the gipsy character is their indifference about + religion. Not that they are strong-minded or sceptical. They have never + made any profession of atheism. Far from that, indeed, the religion of the + country which they inhabit is always theirs; but they change their + religion when they change the country of their residence. They are equally + free from the superstitions which replace religious feeling in the minds + of the vulgar. How, indeed, can superstition exist among a race which, as + a rule, makes its livelihood out of the credulity of others? Nevertheless, + I have remarked a particular horror of touching a corpse among the Spanish + gipsies. Very few of these could be induced to carry a dead man to his + grave, even if they were paid for it. + </p> + <p> + I have said that most gipsy women undertake to tell fortunes. They do this + very successfully. But they find a much greater source of profit in the + sale of charms and love-philters. Not only do they supply toads’ claws to + hold fickle hearts, and powdered loadstone to kindle love in cold ones, + but if necessity arises, they can use mighty incantations, which force the + devil to lend them his aid. Last year the following story was related to + me by a Spanish lady. She was walking one day along the <i>Calle d’Alcala</i>, + feeling very sad and anxious. A gipsy woman who was squatting on the + pavement called out to her, “My pretty lady, your lover has played you + false!” (It was quite true.) “Shall I get him back for you?” My readers + will imagine with what joy the proposal was accepted, and how complete was + the confidence inspired by a person who could thus guess the inmost + secrets of the heart. As it would have been impossible to proceed to + perform the operations of magic in the most crowded street in Madrid, a + meeting was arranged for the next day. “Nothing will be easier than to + bring back the faithless one to your feet!” said the gitana. “Do you + happen to have a handkerchief, a scarf, or a mantilla, that he gave you?” + A silken scarf was handed her. “Now sew a piastre into one corner of the + scarf with crimson silk—sew half a piastre into another corner—sew + a peseta here—and a two-real piece there; then, in the middle you + must sew a gold coin—a doubloon would be best.” The doubloon and all + the other coins were duly sewn in. “Now give me the scarf, and I’ll take + it to the Campo Santo when midnight strikes. You come along with me, if + you want to see a fine piece of witchcraft. I promise you shall see the + man you love to-morrow!” The gipsy departed alone for the Campo Santo, + since my Spanish friend was too much afraid of witchcraft to go there with + her. I leave my readers to guess whether my poor forsaken lady ever saw + her lover, or her scarf, again. + </p> + <p> + In spite of their poverty and the sort of aversion they inspire, the + gipsies are treated with a certain amount of consideration by the more + ignorant folk, and they are very proud of it. They feel themselves to be a + superior race as regards intelligence, and they heartily despise the + people whose hospitality they enjoy. “These Gentiles are so stupid,” said + one of the Vosges gipsies to me, “that there is no credit in taking them + in. The other day a peasant woman called out to me in the street. I went + into her house. Her stove smoked and she asked me to give her a charm to + cure it. First of all I made her give me a good bit of bacon, and then I + began to mumble a few words in <i>Romany</i>. ‘You’re a fool,’ I said, + ‘you were born a fool, and you’ll die a fool!’ When I had got near the + door I said to her, in good German, ‘The most certain way of keeping your + stove from smoking is not to light any fire in it!’ and then I took to my + heels.” + </p> + <p> + The history of the gipsies is still a problem. We know, indeed, that their + first bands, which were few and far between, appeared in Eastern Europe + towards the beginning of the fifteenth century. But nobody can tell whence + they started, or why they came to Europe, and, what is still more + extraordinary, no one knows how they multiplied, within a short time, and + in so prodigious a fashion, and in several countries, all very remote from + each other. The gipsies themselves have preserved no tradition whatsoever + as to their origin, and though most of them do speak of Egypt as their + original fatherland, that is only because they have adopted a very ancient + fable respecting their race. + </p> + <p> + Most of the Orientalists who have studied the gipsy language believe that + the cradle of the race was in India. It appears, in fact, that many of the + roots and grammatical forms of the <i>Romany</i> tongue are to be found in + idioms derived from the Sanskrit. As may be imagined, the gipsies, during + their long wanderings, have adopted many foreign words. In every <i>Romany</i> + dialect a number of Greek words appear. + </p> + <p> + At the present day the gipsies have almost as many dialects as there are + separate hordes of their race. Everywhere, they speak the language of the + country they inhabit more easily than their own idiom, which they seldom + use, except with the object of conversing freely before strangers. A + comparison of the dialect of the German gipsies with that used by the + Spanish gipsies, who have held no communication with each other for + several centuries, reveals the existence of a great number of words common + to both. But everywhere the original language is notably affected, though + in different degrees, by its contact with the more cultivated languages + into the use of which the nomads have been forced. German in one case and + Spanish in the other have so modified the <i>Romany</i> groundwork that it + would not be possible for a gipsy from the Black Forest to converse with + one of his Andalusian brothers, although a few sentences on each side + would suffice to convince them that each was speaking a dialect of the + same language. Certain words in very frequent use are, I believe, common + to every dialect. Thus, in every vocabulary which I have been able to + consult, <i>pani</i> means water, <i>manro</i> means bread, <i>mas</i> + stands for meat, and <i>lon</i> for salt. + </p> + <p> + The nouns of number are almost the same in every case. The German dialect + seems to me much purer than the Spanish, for it has preserved numbers of + the primitive grammatical forms, whereas the Gitanos have adopted those of + the Castilian tongue. Nevertheless, some words are an exception, as though + to prove that the language was originally common to all. The preterite of + the German dialect is formed by adding <i>ium</i> to the imperative, which + is always the root of the verb. In the Spanish <i>Romany</i> the verbs are + all conjugated on the model of the first conjugation of the Castilian + verbs. From <i>jamar</i>, the infinitive of “to eat,” the regular + conjugation should be <i>jame</i>, “I have eaten.” From <i>lillar</i>, “to + take,” <i>lille</i>, “I have taken.” Yet, some old gipsies say, as an + exception, <i>jayon</i> and <i>lillon</i>. I am not acquainted with any + other verbs which have preserved this ancient form. + </p> + <p> + While I am thus showing off my small acquaintance with the <i>Romany</i> + language, I must notice a few words of French slang which our thieves have + borrowed from the gipsies. From <i>Les Mysteres de Paris</i> honest folk + have learned that the word <i>chourin</i> means “a knife.” This is pure <i>Romany</i>—<i>tchouri</i> + is one of the words which is common to every dialect. Monsieur Vidocq + calls a horse <i>gres</i>—this again is a gipsy word—<i>gras</i>, + <i>gre</i>, <i>graste</i>, and <i>gris</i>. Add to this the word <i>romanichel</i>, + by which the gipsies are described in Parisian slang. This is a corruption + of <i>romane tchave</i>—“gipsy lads.” But a piece of etymology of + which I am really proud is that of the word <i>frimousse</i>, “face,” + “countenance”—a word which every schoolboy uses, or did use, in my + time. Note, in the first place, the Oudin, in his curious dictionary, + published in 1640, wrote the word <i>firlimouse</i>. Now in <i>Romany</i>, + <i>firla</i>, or <i>fila</i>, stands for “face,” and has the same meaning—it + is exactly the <i>os</i> of the Latins. The combination of <i>firlamui</i> + was instantly understood by a genuine gipsy, and I believe it to be true + to the spirit of the gipsy language. + </p> + <p> + I have surely said enough to give the readers of Carmen a favourable idea + of my <i>Romany</i> studies. I will conclude with the following proverb, + which comes in very appropriately: <i>En retudi panda nasti abela macha</i>. + “Between closed lips no fly can pass.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Carmen, by Prosper Merimee + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARMEN *** + +***** This file should be named 2465-h.htm or 2465-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/2465/ + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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