Until she comes to herself.
When she had come to herself she says:
“Be accursed, O Tziganes!
May there never be a cinder in your forges,
May there never be bread on your bread-pans,
Nor buttons to your shirts!”
They take the road,’ etc.
And M. Georgeakis adds in a footnote, ‘The Tziganes whom one sees in the island of Mitylene are all smiths.’ It is a far cry from the Greek Archipelago to the Highlands of Scotland, but in the [[xxix]]Gypsy Lore Journal (iii. 1892, p. 190), is this brief unsigned note: ‘I should be pleased to know if you have the tradition in the South [of Scotland], that the tinkers are descendants of the one who made the nails for the Cross, and are condemned to wander continually without rest.’ No answer appeared; and I know of no other hint of the currency of this belief in Western Europe, unless it be the couplet:—
‘A whistling maid and a crowing hen
Are hateful alike to God and men,’