"Acquainted with her!" said Antonio. "Did not my own brother marry
the black Calli, her daughter, who bore him the chabi, sixteen
years ago, just before he was hanged by the Busne?"

In the afternoon I was seated with the Gypsy mother in the hall,
the two Callees were absent telling fortunes about the town and
neighbourhood, which was their principal occupation. "Are you
married, my London Caloro?" said the old woman to me. "Are you a
ro?"

Myself.--Wherefore do you ask, O Dai de los Cales?

Gypsy Mother.--It is high time that the lacha of the chabi were
taken from her, and that she had a ro. You can do no better than
take her for romi, my London Caloro.

Myself.--I am a stranger in this land, O mother of the Gypsies, and
scarcely know how to provide for myself, much less for a romi.

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