“Let the matters of my sister and Jasper Petulengro alone, brother; you must travel in their company some time before you can understand them; they are a strange two, up to all kind of chaffing: but two more regular Romans don’t breathe, and I’ll tell you, for your instruction, that there isn’t a better mare-breaker in England that Jasper Petulengro, if you can manage Miss Isopel Berners as well as . . .”
“Isopel Berners,” said I, “how came you to think of her?”
“How should I but think of her, brother, living as she does with you in Mumper’s dingle, and travelling about with you; you will have, brother, more difficulty to manage her, than Jasper has to manage my sister Pakomovna. I should have mentioned her before, only I wanted to know what you had to say to me; and when we got into discourse, I forgot her. I say, brother, let me tell you your dukkerin, with respect to her, you will never . . .”
“I want to hear no dukkerin, Ursula.”
“Do let me tell you your dukkerin, brother, you will never manage . . .”
“I want to hear no dukkerin, Ursula, in connection with Isopel Berners. Moreover, it is Sunday, we will change the subject; it is surprising to me that, after all you have undergone, you should still look so beautiful. I suppose you do not think of marrying again, Ursula?”
“No, brother, one husband at a time is quite enough for any reasonable mort; especially such a good husband as I have got.”
“Such a good husband! why, I thought you told me your husband was drowned?”
“Yes, brother, my first husband was.”
“And have you a second?”