It is our last morning; we are up at four o’clock. Our breakfast consisted of bread and cheese, and tea. Noah was presented with another pair of trowsers, to appear at Christiania. Taking our courier bag, and a few books, and clothes, we left; reluctantly, we must say. More than once, we turned, as we saw our tents above the ravine. More than once, as we turned, we saw our beautiful Puru Rawnee on the greensward near the river; we had reached the top of the ascent. As we left the ravine, once more, we saw the form of some one coming after us—it was Esmeralda. Our camp life in Norway has ended.
ESMERALDA.
CHAPTER XLII.
“The King of the Gipsies, or El Capitan as he is called, is a fine musician, and we invited him to come up to the hotel one evening to play to us. Captain Antonio’s company is not to be had for the asking.... It was a wretchedly poor instrument, and we began to wonder what sort of torments were about to be inflicted upon us, when on a sudden the tuning ceased, and the music seized hold of us like galvanism; for it was such music as one had never dreamed of before.”
Matilda Betham Edwards’ Through Spain.[133]
CHRISTIANIA—GENEROUS OFFER—ADVICE WE DO NOT TAKE—THE PAPER—VIKEN FISHERMEN—CHRISTOPHERSON’S—NORWAY FAREWELL—DONKEYS’ ACCOMMODATION—WANT OF FEELING—OUR STEWARD—THE GIPSIES’ FRIENDS—THE SPANISH COURIER—THE LITERARY AMERICAN—THE GIPSIES’ MAL DE MER—THE DONKEYS IN A SMOKE ROOM—THE LOST NECKLACE—ENGLAND’S SHORE—TO OUR READERS.
Very lightly shall we touch upon the remaining portion of our journey. A carriole from the Skyds Station at Sandviken conveyed us to the Victoria Hotel at Christiania. We had dined there on our first landing; we went there on our return. Every attention, and comfort, is to be found at the Victoria.
Our friend the Chevalier gave our gipsies a beautiful camp ground for the tents, on a wooded knoll, near the Christiania Fjord.
They were to follow us to Christiania the next morning after we left them.
About noon on the following day after our arrival, we strolled out of the city to meet them. Our gipsies had halted in the shade of some trees. A young officer had stepped down from his carriage, and was speaking to Esmeralda. The lady in the carriage had kindly offered them camping-ground on her property. It was kindly meant, but we had already arranged. The same evening, our gipsies were encamped near Christiania Fjord—the last camp of the English gipsies in Norway.