He went forward, now swiftly, now slowly, and at length he encountered an aged woman.
“Good day, good woman.”
“Good day, good man. Whither goest thou at this pace?”
“Ah, good woman—would thou knewest—would thou didst know my sorrow—would I might tell thee whither I go!”
“Tell me thy sorrow, little dove. Perchance I can come to thine aid.”
“I am shamed to tell it thee.”
“Fear not, have no shame. Speak boldly.”
“Ah, well, see here, good woman. I had boasted of having a yard that reached to my knees; a merchant’s daughter, who had heard this, espoused me, but when she lay with me on our wedding night and perceived that I had but a little yard, smaller than a finger, she cried out and asked what I had done with my great yard. I told her that I had pledged it for fifty roubles; she gave me the money and bade me buy it back without fail; otherwise, I might not show myself again at my home. And I know not how to satisfy my little dove.”
The aged woman made answer to him:
“Give me thy money,” said she, “and I will find a remedy for thy sorrow.”