Miller. Of your own will, or by compulsion?
Filimón. I am looking for horses: my roan and grey have gotten away from me; they are fine horses, such fine horses. (Aside.) He is a fortune-teller: I’ll try my fortune with him. (To the Miller.) Say, old man, I want to ask you——
Miller. What is it you want? As you please, I am at your service.
Filimón. That’s good! And I’ll pay you for it. Tell me my fortune: shall I find my horses?
Miller. Shall you find your horses?
Filimón. That’s it, old man. I am very anxious to find out about them.
Miller. Now, how about that; is there going to be anything? (Stretches out his hand to him.)
Filimón. First tell me, old man, and then we’ll see.
Miller (turns away from him, and angrily begins a song):
Tell the fortune: