‘Good; it shall be told,’ answered the woman sharply. ‘Give me a pack of cards.’
The pack of cards was brought. She spread the cards on the table in several rows. Next she shifted them about, and placed them in squares and circles, and all the time the company gathered round and waited in eager expectancy for what was coming. Presently the woman jumbled the cards up together, then repacked them and told the bridegroom to cut them four times, and the bride three. That done, the fortune-teller seemed absorbed in some abstruse calculation as she slowly sorted the cards out in four rows.
‘You are a precious long time,’ exclaimed the bridegroom irritably. ‘It strikes me you are a humbug.’
‘Patience, patience,’ murmured the woman. ‘There is something wrong about the cards. They won’t come right.’
‘Because you don’t understand them,’ suggested somebody.
‘Possibly; but patience, patience; I shall understand them directly. Ah! I see something now. It’s strange, very strange!’
The curiosity and interest of the company were fully aroused by the mysterious manner of the old woman, who seemed deeply absorbed in what she was doing; but Briazga was annoyed, and he called out:
‘Ladies and gentlemen, let us stop this nonsense. The woman is an impostor, and is only wasting our time, which can be more joyfully and pleasurably employed. It is an auspicious occasion, this, and we don’t want it marred by any unpleasant incident. Let us banish the woman to the kitchen.’
At these words the old fortune-teller drew herself up with a certain dignity, and remarked:
‘It is customary for my people to be kindly and hospitably entertained at these festive gatherings; and I myself have the reputation of being a most successful fortune-teller; it is not my fault now that the cards will not come right. But I read certain things about the bridegroom which I am sure he would like to know. Say, shall I proceed?’