She smiled, waving her forefinger in front of her nose.
Raoul informed the Irishman that this was a negative answer to his question.
“By my sowl, thin,” said Chane, “I wudn’t mind marryin’ ye meself, an’ joinin’ the thribe—that is, if they’ll let me off from the hangin’. Tell her that, Raowl.”
As desired, Raoul explained his comrade’s last speech, at which the woman laughed, but said nothing.
“Silence gives consint. But tell her, Raowl, that I won’t buy a pig in a poke: they must first let me off from the hangin’, de ye hear?—tell her that.”
“El señor está muy alegre,” (The gentleman is very merry), said the woman; and, picking up her jar, with a smile, she left us.
“I say, Raowl, does she consint?”
“She hasn’t made up her mind yet.”
“By the holy vistment! thin it’s all up wid Murt. The saints won’t save him. Take another dhrap, Raowl!”