DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61635#0044
[ 4° ]
“Comment?” she repeated peevishly. “I do
not understand you.”
—The man still tinkered at his pots.
I chaffed them in my best Romany, but they
took no further heed. I tried French. I said I
was a Gipsy come from over the seas, with news of
their brothers in America.-
“ But we’re not Gipsies,” said they; “ we live in
Boulogne, and we’re busy.”
—I declare I never was so snubbed in my life !
’Twas but six quarters of an hour on foot to
Neuchatel, the carpenter told us.—The road in the
late afternoon was full of fine carriages and shabby
carts; and in sight of Neuchatel we passed men
and women going home from work. We asked
one man if there was an inn in the town.-
“Il-y-a-douze” he answered, with great effort,
and hurried on, so that we had not time to tell him
we too could speak English.
We wondered so small a town should be so rich
in inns. But douze, it seemed, was the English
way of saying deux. A woman standing in the
first doorway assured us there were but two—one
opposite the church, and another, the Pas de Coeur
—we understood her to say, around the corner.—
At the foot of the hill we found the first, with
Boarding-House in large black letters on its newly
whitewashed
“Comment?” she repeated peevishly. “I do
not understand you.”
—The man still tinkered at his pots.
I chaffed them in my best Romany, but they
took no further heed. I tried French. I said I
was a Gipsy come from over the seas, with news of
their brothers in America.-
“ But we’re not Gipsies,” said they; “ we live in
Boulogne, and we’re busy.”
—I declare I never was so snubbed in my life !
’Twas but six quarters of an hour on foot to
Neuchatel, the carpenter told us.—The road in the
late afternoon was full of fine carriages and shabby
carts; and in sight of Neuchatel we passed men
and women going home from work. We asked
one man if there was an inn in the town.-
“Il-y-a-douze” he answered, with great effort,
and hurried on, so that we had not time to tell him
we too could speak English.
We wondered so small a town should be so rich
in inns. But douze, it seemed, was the English
way of saying deux. A woman standing in the
first doorway assured us there were but two—one
opposite the church, and another, the Pas de Coeur
—we understood her to say, around the corner.—
At the foot of the hill we found the first, with
Boarding-House in large black letters on its newly
whitewashed