Marushka worked over it for hours and grew to fairly hate the thought of marrying.
"I shall never, never marry," she sobbed. "I shall never finish this horrid old Himmelbelt and I suppose I can't be married without it."
Banda Bela sympathized with her and often played for her while she worked. Through the long winter the children learned to read and write, for all children are compelled to go to school in Hungary, and the Gypsies are the only ones who escape the school room.
Marushka learned very fast. Her mind worked far more quickly than did Banda Bela's, though he was so much older. There was nothing which Marushka did not want to know all about; earth, air, sky, water, sun, wind, people,—all were interesting to her.
"The wind, Banda Bela, whence comes it?" she would ask.
"It is the breath of God," the boy would answer.
"And the sun?"
"It is God's kindness."
"But the storms, with the flashing lightning and the terrible thunder?"
"It is the wrath of Isten, the flash of his eye, the sound of his voice."