"Forgive us our trespasses—" I thought of it afterward.

"Doesn't she?" said the woman, evidently nettled; "doesn't she?"

"Why, do you mean to say that you know the meaning of churi?"

"Why, of course I do," said the woman.

"Hardly, my good lady," said I; "hardly; a churi to you is merely a churi."

"A churi is a knife," said the woman, in a tone of defiance; "a churi is a knife."

"Oh, it is," said I; "and yet you tried to persuade me that you had no peculiar language of your own, and only knew English and Scotch: churi is a word of the language in which I spoke to you at first, Zingarrijib, or Gypsy language; and since you know that word, I make no doubt that you know others, and in fact can speak Gypsy. Come; let us have a little confidential discourse together."

The woman stood for some time, as if in reflection, and at length said: "Sir, before having any particular discourse with you, I wish to put a few questions to you, in order to gather from your answers whether it is safe to talk to you on Gypsy matters. You pretend to understand the Gypsy language: if I find you do not, I will hold no further discourse with you; and the sooner you take yourself off the better. If I find you do, I will talk with you as long as you like. What do you call that?"--and she pointed to the fire.

"Hm," said the woman: "and the dog out there?"

Great!（1612）