“Well,” said Esmeralda, “what is a wife for?”
“For?” retorted Noah sharply, giving his boot an extra brush, “why, to wait upon her husband.”
“And what,” said Esmeralda, “is a husband for?”
“What’s a husband for?” exclaimed Noah, with a look of profound pity for his sister’s ignorance, “why, to eat and drink, and look on.”
It would seem to us that the more rude energy a man has in his composition, the more a woman will be made take her position as helpmate. It is always a mark of great civilization, and the effeminacy of a people, when women obtain the undue mastery of men.[42] When Noah had finished blacking his boots, he went with Zachariah to take the donkeys for water along the road towards Listad As they turned, Noah and Zachariah astonished the peasants by racing along the road mounted on the donkeys, with their faces to their tails. Noah and Zachariah afterwards went fishing.
We lounged on an eminence writing our notes, and Esmeralda washed for us a shirt and collar, and some of her own and Noah’s things. We had a succession of visitors all the afternoon. Some wore red caps; all were deeply interested in the donkeys. In fact, if we could have kept them secluded in a tent, we might have made a large fortune by exhibiting them. We had, however, no wish to do so. Our peasant friends were welcome, and if our wild music gave them pleasure, they were welcome to that also. They certainly showed us much civility and kindness during our wanderings. We cannot forget them.
When we were at the tents at 6 o’clock, Zachariah had returned with two small fishes, and Noah with one of tolerable size. Having made a hurried tea, a large number of peasants collected, before 8 o’clock, about our camp. The music commenced at our tents soon afterwards, and then to give them an opportunity to dance, we went outside. There was a good space of ground close below our tents, but a tree was in the middle of the ground. This was at last uprooted by the peasants. Our beau of the village on this occasion was a thin, rather roughly-dressed, young man, but an inveterate dancer. The gipsies at once named him Arthur. If a house had interfered with the convenience of the dancers instead of a tree, it is possible that he would have pulled that down also. Of the females, two small girls were the best dancers; and they seemed thoroughly to enjoy themselves.
The dancers patronised the skip waltz. It was a curious scene. Three or four of the peasants were dressed in blue jackets with silver buttons and silver frontlets hanging from their necks.
My gipsies were particularly lively and in high spirits. The variety of costume, and any slight eccentricity of manner, was at once the subject of their criticism. We did our best to moderate their gaiety, and romany chaff, now and then as they played their wild music, we could hear.
“Dit a kei! (gip., look there) there’s Arthur!”