Tephany was lost in astonishment. Evidently the old woman was no beggar, but a saint, or a singer of truth.[2]
At any rate, the young girl treasured the pin carefully, well determined to try its power the next day. Towards the time, then, at which Dénès was accustomed to make his appearance, she set it in her collar. Barbaik instantly put on her wooden shoes, and walked off into the garden, where she set herself to count her cabbages; from the garden she went to the orchard, and from the orchard to the field, so that Tephany could talk with Dénès at her ease.
It was the same the next day, and the next, through many weeks. As soon as the pin made its appearance from the étui, the good woman was off amongst her cabbages, always beginning to count once more how many little or big, embossed or curly cabbages[3] she had.
Dénès at first appeared enchanted at this freedom, but by degrees he grew less eager to avail himself of it. He had taught Tephany all his songs; he had told her all his plans; now he was forced to consider what he could talk to her about, and make it up beforehand, like a preacher preparing his sermon. And more than that, he came later, and went earlier away; sometimes even, pretending cartage, weeding, or errands to the town detained him, he came not to the farm at all; and Tephany had to console herself with her pin.
She understood that the love of her betrothed was cooling, and became more sorrowful than before.
One day, after vainly waiting for the youth, she took her pitcher, and went all solitary to the fountain, her heart swelling with displeasure.
When she reached it, she perceived the same old woman who had given her the magic pin. There she sat, near the spring; and watching Tephany as she advanced, she began with a little chuckling laugh,
“Ah, ah! then the pretty girl is no longer satisfied to chatter with her humble servant any hour of the day.”
“Alas, to chat, I must be with him,” replied Tephany mournfully; “and custom has made my company less agreeable to him. Oh, aunt, since you have given me the means of seeing him every day, you might give me at the same time wit enough to keep my hold upon him.”
“Is that what my daughter wants?” said the old woman. “In that case, here is a feather; let her but put it in her hair, and no one can resist her, for she will be as clever and as cunning as Master John[4] himself.”