have borrowed from the gipsies. From Les Mysteres de Paris honest folk have learned that the word chourin means “a knife.” This is pure Romany — tchouri is one of the words which is common to every dialect. Monsieur Vidocq calls a horse gres —this again is a gipsy word— gras , gre , graste , and gris . Add to this the word romanichel , by which the gipsies are described in Parisian slang. This is a corruption of romane tchave —“gipsy lads.” But a piece of etymology of which I am really proud is that of the word frimousse , “face,” “countenance”—a word which every schoolboy uses, or did use, in my time. Note, in the first place, the Oudin, in his curious dictionary, published in 1640, wrote the word firlimouse . Now in Romany , firla , or fila , stands for “face,” and has the same meaning—it is exactly the os of the Latins. The combination of firlamui was instantly understood by a genuine gipsy, and I believe it to be true to the spirit of the gipsy language.
I have surely said enough to give the readers of Carmen a favourable idea of my Romany studies. I will conclude with the following proverb, which comes in very appropriately: En retudi panda nasti abela macha. “Between closed lips no fly can pass.”