"I?" Czipra inquired with a determined glance. "Oh, just here!"
And therewith she threw herself on the floor before the bed.
Melanie, alarmed, drew near to her, seized her arm, and tried to raise her. She asked her: "Czipra, what is the matter with you? Tell me what has happened?"—Czipra did not answer, did not move, did not open her eyes.
Melanie seeing she could not reanimate her, rose in despair, and, clasping her hands, panted:
"Great Heavens! what has happened?"—Then Czipra suddenly started up and began to laugh.
"Ha ha! Now I just managed to frighten you."
Therewith rolling uncontrolledly on the floor, she laughed continuously like one who has succeeded in playing a good joke on her companion.
"How startled I was!" panted Melanie, pressing her hands to her heaving breast.
"Sleep in my bed," Czipra said. "I shall sleep here on the floor. You know I am accustomed to sleep on the ground, covered with rugs.
"'My mother was a gypsy maid
She taught me to sleep on the ground,
In winter to walk with feet unbound;
In a ragged tent my home was made.'"