All which villainy would be prevented, in my
opinion, were the Calo language not spoken; for what but the word
of Calo could have induced the donkey to behave in such an
unaccountable manner?"
Both seemed perfectly satisfied with the justness of this
conclusion, and continued smoking till their cigars were burnt to
stumps, when they arose, twitched their whiskers, looked at us with
fierce disdain, and dashing the tobacco-ends to the ground, strode
out of the apartment.
"Those people seem no friends to the gypsies," said I to Antonio,
when the two bullies had departed, "nor to the Calo language
either."
"May evil glanders seize their nostrils," said Antonio; "they have
been jonjabadoed by our people. However, brother, you did wrong to
speak to me in Calo, in a posada like this; it is a forbidden
language; for, as I have often told you, the king has destroyed the
law of the Cales. Let us away, brother, or those juntunes
(sneaking scoundrels) may set the justicia upon us."
Towards evening we drew near to a large town or village. "That is
Merida," said Antonio, "formerly, as the Busne say, a mighty city
of the Corahai. We shall stay here to-night, and perhaps for a day
or two, for I have some business of Egypt to transact in this
place. Now, brother, step aside with the horse, and wait for me
beneath yonder wall. I must go before and see in what condition
matters stand."
I dismounted from the horse, and sat down on a stone beneath the
ruined wall to which Antonio had motioned me; the sun went down,
and the air was exceedingly keen; I drew close around me an old
tattered gypsy cloak with which my companion had provided me, and
being somewhat fatigued, fell into a doze which lasted for nearly
an hour.
"Is your worship the London Caloro?" said a strange voice close
beside me.
I started and beheld the face of a woman peering under my hat.
Notwithstanding the dusk, I could see that the features were
hideously ugly and almost black; they belonged, in fact, to a gypsy
crone, at least seventy years of age, leaning upon a staff.
"Is your worship the London Caloro?" repeated she.
"I am he whom you seek," said I; "where is Antonio?"
"Curelando, curelando, baribustres curelos terela," {1} said the
crone: "come with me, Caloro of my garlochin, come with me to my
little ker, he will be there anon."
I followed the crone, who led the way into the town, which was
ruinous and seemingly half deserted; we went up the street, from
which she turned into a narrow and dark lane, and presently opened
the gate of a large dilapidated house; "Come in," said she.
