[73] A village in Transylvania, chiefly inhabited by Wallachs.—Tr.
("Aha!" I murmured, "poetic justice with a vengeance; I myself could not have devised a happier dénouement.")
"Everything became green and blue before my eyes. My throat contracted. I was incapable of uttering a word. But the tongue of the little peasant woman wagged all the brisker. No sooner did she see me than she bounced from her place, cocked her haube on the side of her head, stuck her arms akimbo, and fell foul of me.
"'Ah, ha! my dear precious lady! I suppose 'tis Carnival time, since you come masquerading hither like that! Perhaps you've come because you've lost something here, eh? A shawl, perhaps? A very pretty little ladyship, that I will say! Haven't you got a nice enough lord and master of your own at home? Must you befool the poor peasant also? Or if your lawful husband is not enough for you, can't you go and choose another from among the cavaliers of your own rank? You hanker after laying your little stuck-up noddle on my patch-pillow, eh? You ought to be ashamed of yourself!'
"I was dumbfoundered. This face of a fury, with the eyes sticking out of its head, robbed me of all my pluck. In my despair and doubt I looked at Peter.
"He all this time was sitting with his elbows on the table and swallowing one dumpling after another.
"'Is this justice, Peter?' stammered I, half-sobbing; 'will you let me be treated like this?'
"At this he struck the table with his fist a mighty blow and roared at his wife: 'Woman! Shut up! Hold your tongue! Sit down at that table and fill your stomach! I'll speak now.'
"The woman sulked in silence, but, even while her husband was speaking, she could not forbear putting in a word or two here and there, such as: 'She has worn out my dress, too!—I didn't steal that! My lovely chintz dress! How she has rumpled it! Just as if she had been tumbling it about in every pot-house!'
"But Peter spoke very sagely.