The men are no less picturesque than the women; they are covered with filthy rags, and are mostly barefooted. But tribes have I encountered less sordid, where the men wore high boots, baggy trousers, and shirts with wide-hanging sleeves. These belonged to more prosperous clans, the men particularly good-looking, with long curling hair hanging on both sides of their faces. Evil-looking creatures no doubt, but uncannily handsome nevertheless.
Most gipsies are tinkers by profession, by instinct they are thieves. Leaving their women-folk to look after the tents, the men will set out towards the villages, there to patch up pots and pans; often one meets them several in file carrying bright copper vessels on their backs. They grin at you, and never forget to stretch out a begging hand.
Others have studied the gipsies' habits, morals, and ways; I have only looked upon them with an artist's eye, and in that way they are an unending source of joy.
Inconceivable is the bustle and noise when a camp breaks up. The tent-poles are pulled out of the ground, the miserable horses that have been seeking scarce nourishment from the withered wayside grass are caught by the screeching children, who have easy work, as the unfortunate creatures are hobbled and cannot escape. Resignedly they let themselves be attached to the carts, the tent-poles, carpets, pots and pans are once more transferred from the ground to the vehicles that will transport them to another place, and thus onwards ... without end....
The old crones are stowed away beneath all this baggage, and with them the children too small to walk, the feeble old men, the invalids, and those too foot-sore to tramp the weary way.
A delightful picture did I once perceive. Upon the back of a patient donkey numerous tent-poles had been tied; how so small a beast could carry them remains a mystery. Between these poles several small naked babies had been fastened, their black eyes staring at me from beneath mops of tousled, unkempt curls.
The donkey moved from place to place, grazing, the heavy poles bobbed about, one or the other touching the ground, raising little clouds of dust like smoke.
No concern was to be read on the faces of the babies; this mode of transport was no doubt the usual thing. They looked like little brown monkeys brought from warmer climes....
