"'My spark!' said she. 'Why, you've guessed that all alone! Are you jealous of this idiot? You're even sillier than you were before our evening in the Calle del Candilejo! Don't you see, fool, that at this moment I'm doing gipsy business, and doing it in the most brilliant manner? This house belongs to me—the guineas of that crayfish will belong to me! I lead him by the nose, and I'll lead him to a place that he'll never get out of!'
"'And if I catch you doing gipsy business in this style again, I'll see to it that you never do any again!' said I.
"'Ah! upon my word! Are you my rom, pray, that you give me orders? If El Tuerto is pleased, what have you to do with it? Oughtn't you to be very happy that you are the only man who can call himself my minchorrò?'[1]
"'What does he say?' inquired the Englishman.
"'He says he's thirsty, and would like a drink,' answered Carmen, and she threw herself back upon a sofa, screaming with laughter at her own translation.
"When that girl began to laugh, sir, it was hopeless for anybody to try and talk sense. Everybody laughed with her. The big English-
- ↑ My "lover," or rather my "fancy."
