-as dark as could be. Belle, in demeanour calm and proud; the
gypsy graceful, but full of movement and agitation. And then how
different were those two in stature! The head of the Romany rawnie
scarcely ascended to the breast of Isopel Berners. I could see that Mrs.
Petulengro gazed on Belle with unmixed admiration: so did her husband.
"Well," said the latter, "one thing I will say, which is, that there is
only one on earth worthy to stand up in front of this she, and that is
the beauty of the world, as far as man flesh is concerned, Tawno Chikno;
what a pity he did not come down!"

"Tawno Chikno," said Mrs. Petulengro, flaring up; "a pretty fellow he to
stand up in front of this gentlewoman, a pity he didn't come, quotha? not
at all, the fellow is a sneak, afraid of his wife. He stand up against
this rawnie! why the look she has given me would knock the fellow down."

"It is easier to knock him down with a look than with a fist," said Mr.
Petulengro; "that is, if the look comes from a woman: not that I am
disposed to doubt that this female gentlewoman is able to knock him down
either one way or the other. I have heard of her often enough, and have
seen her once or twice, though not so near as now. Well, ma'am, my wife
and I are come to pay our respects to you; we are both glad to find that
you have left off keeping company with Flaming Bosville, and have taken
up with my pal; he is not very handsome, but a better . . . ."

"I take up with your pal, as you call him; you had better mind what you
say," said Isopel Berners; "I take up with nobody."

"I merely mean taking up your quarters with him," said Mr. Petulengro;
"and I was only about to say a better fellow-lodger you cannot have, or a
more instructive, especially if you have a desire to be inoculated with
tongues, as he calls them. I wonder whether you and he have had any
tongue-work already."

"Have you and your wife anything particular to say? If you have nothing
but this kind of conversation I must leave you, as I am going to make a
journey this afternoon, and should be getting ready."

"You must excuse my husband, madam," said Mrs. Petulengro; "he is not
overburdened with understanding, and has said but one word of sense since
he has been here, which was that we came to pay our respects to you. We
have dressed ourselves in our best Roman way, in order to do honour to
you; perhaps you do not like it; if so, I am sorry. I have no French
clothes, ma