“Ay me, what a terrible dream! what a wicked dream! Pray God not to lead you into temptation.”
Then she scolded her daughter severely and went out, slamming the door after her. That same day a carriage drove into the village, and some gentlemen invited mother and daughter to share the bread of the lord of the manor. The mother considered such an offer a great honour, but the daughter refused it and replied to the gentlemen scornfully: “Even if you had come to fetch me in a carriage of solid silver and had presented me with a golden diadem, I would never have consented to be the wife of your lord.”
The gentlemen turned away in disgust and returned home; the mother rebuked her severely for so much pride.
“Miserable, foolish girl!” she cried, “pride is a breath from hell. It is your duty to be humble, honest, and sweet-tempered.”
The daughter replied by a laugh.
The third night she slept soundly, but the poor woman at her side could not close her eyes. Tormented with dark forebodings, she feared some misfortune was about to happen, and counted her beads, praying fervently. All at once the young sleeper began to sneer and laugh.
“Merciful God! ah me!” cried the poor woman, “what are these dreams that worry her poor brain!”
In the morning she said, “What made you sneer so frightfully last night? You must have had bad dreams again, my poor child.”
“Now, mother, you look as if you were going to preach again.”
“No, no; but I want to know what you were dreaming about.”