Both these females were very handsome--but
how unlike! Belle fair, with blue eyes and flaxen hair; Mrs. Petulengro
with olive complexion, eyes black, and hair dark--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.
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