Now though my gaze was
immediately abased to earth I none the less had a memory of an
exceedingly well-turned and shapely limb.
"And so you thinks I'm a shrew, does ye?" she demanded, head aslant,
and hands on shapely hips.
"I think you might perhaps be just a little more gentle."
"Tush, young man, gentleness don't serve a maid among the Folk!"
"What folk?"
"The Romans."
"Romans?" said I, puzzled.
"Aye, Romans. The Romany, gipsies, the poor folk."
"Are you a gipsy, then?"
"I guess so! Though old Azor, of the Romany _rawni Camlo_, do
ever tell I'm no true Roman. So mayhap I'm not. However, when I grows
up I takes to my little knife--by reason of the _chals_--aye, and
uses it too, otherwise I might ha' been tamed by now instead o' being
free to choose. Ah, yes, I might ha' been creeping the ways wi' some
man's brat on my shoulders, to work while he slept, go hungry till
he'd ate his fill and slave for him--ah, I hate men!" And she spat in
contempt and very coarsely. Yet I could not but notice how perfectly
shaped was this vivid, scornful mouth.
"So you don't like me, young man, and I do not like you, which is a
pity, seeing you buys me out o' the tribe and--"
"Bought you!" I exclaimed, utterly aghast.
"Indeed and to be sure you did. Which is what many a man has wished to
do ere this. However, according to the law of our tribe we are
mates--"
"Great heaven!" I exclaimed in such unfeigned consternation that she
knit her black brows at me.
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