“But you seem to have been acquainted with various individuals with whom I have likewise had acquaintance; and you have even alluded to matters, and even words, which have passed between me and them.”
“Do you know how Gypsies live?” said I.
“By hammering old iron, I believe, and telling fortunes.”
“Well,” said I, “there’s my forge, and yonder is some iron, though not old, and by your own confession I am a soothsayer.”
“But how did you come by your knowledge?”
“O,” said I, “if you want me to reveal the secrets of my trade, I have, of course, nothing further to say. Go to the scarlet dyer, and ask him how he dyes cloth.”
“Why scarlet?” said the man in black. “Is it because Gypsies blush like scarlet?”
“Gypsies never blush,” said I; “but Gypsies’ cloaks are scarlet.”
“I should almost take you for a Gypsy,” said the man in black, “but for—”
“For what?” said I.