“Oh! I can’t let you have it.”
Giucca went on. When he had gone a little further, he came to a statue of plaster of Paris.
“Oh! good woman, do you want to buy some cloth?”
The statue said nothing.
Said Giucca: “This is just right. Mother told me to sell the cloth to some one who does not talk. I couldn’t do better than this. I say, good woman! I want ten crowns for it”—and he threw the cloth at her; “to-morrow I will come and fetch them.”
And he went home, well pleased. His mother said, “Giucca, have you sold the cloth?”
“Yes,” said Giucca; “they told me I was to come and fetch the money to-morrow.”
“But tell me—did you give it to a trustworthy person?”
“I think so. She was a good sort of woman, you may believe that!”
Let us leave Giucca, and go back to the statue, which was hollow, and was the place where some robbers hid their money. In the evening they came with some more money to put away inside the image.