"Golden lady," the gypsy woman thanked her. "I have just such a girl at home for sale, not so beautiful as you, but just as tall. She too has a bridegroom, who will take her off as soon as he can."
Czipra now began to choose from the silver coins.
"But he cannot take her, for we have not money enough to pay the priest."
Czipra picked out the largest of the silver coins and gave it to the gypsy woman.
The latter blessed her for it. "May God reward you with a handsome bridegroom, true in love till death!"
Then she shuffled on her way from the house.
Czipra reflectingly hummed to herself the refrain:
"A gypsy woman was my mother."
And Czipra meditated.
How prettily thought speaks! If only the tongue could utter all the dumb soul speaks to itself!