One morning she rose early, and, as usual, went into the wood to gather a bundle of sticks. Presently she was seen running back as if Old Nick was at her heels. Panting, and scared out of her wits, she dropped on a bench outside the inn. As soon as she could speak, she begged for a little glass of brandy.
The people crowded around her and asked her what had happened.
"No sooner had I left the roadside and got into the wood," she said, "I bent down to gather some sticks, when, lo and behold! fifty wild cats, as big as bears, with bristling hair, glaring eyes and sharp claws, suddenly jumped out from behind the bushes. Holy Virgin! what a fright I got, and see how scratched and torn I was by those brutes."
"Come, come, Marija," said the innkeeper; "you must have seen double—you know you often do. How many cats were there?"
"Well, I don't say there were exactly fifty, for I didn't count them; but as true as God is in heaven there were twenty-five."
"Don't exaggerate, Marija—don't exaggerate; there are not twenty-five cats in the whole village."
"Well, if there were not twenty-five, may the devil take me; surely there were fifteen?"
"Pooh! Marija, have another little drop, just to get over your fright, and then you'll confess that there were not fifteen."
Marija drained down another glass, and said:
"May a thunderbolt strike me dead this very moment but five wild cats pounced upon me all at once."