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stammered.
    â€œâ€˜Got any money?’ asked the woman doubtfully, looking at my torn stockings and dirty dress.
    â€œâ€˜Yes,’ I said.
    â€œâ€˜Let me see it,’ she demanded.
    â€œI brought the gold piece out of my pocket. The gypsy examined it craftily; then she smiled a wide, delighted smile. One of her teeth was black.
    â€œâ€˜You must have found that in a well-lined pocket,’ said she.
    â€œAt first I did not understand what she meant. Then I was angry.
    â€œâ€˜I never stole anything in my life!’ I told her. ‘My father gave it to me for a present.’
    â€œâ€˜Your father? He is a rich man?’
    â€œâ€˜I suppose he is,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. I never thought about it. Anyway I don’t think I want you to tell my fortune after all.’
    â€œQuick as a cat the gypsy sprang from her chair and barred the entrance.
    â€œâ€˜Forgive me, mademoiselle,’ she wheedled. ‘I didn’t realize—Your clothes are torn and you have such a dirty face. Come and sit down; I’ll tell you a fortune you’ll never forget: splendid, wonderful things are going to happen to you. I see luck shining all around you!’
    â€œWell, who could resist that? In spite of myself, I was soon seated opposite Zenaïda, my dirty hand in her dirtier one. Before she began to read my palm she called out in her harsh gypsy voice, ‘Bastien!’
    â€œA young man’s face appeared at the entrance, and Zenaïda said something to him in a strange language. The young man nodded, looked at me, and burst out laughing. Then he disappeared.
    â€œThe gypsy lived up to her word. Never was such a fortune told to a human being! Jewels, lovers, fame, travels into far countries, all were promised to me, and I sat there like a half-wit believing every word.
    â€œâ€˜I must go,’ I said at last. ‘Please take what I owe you out of this.’ I gave her the gold piece trustingly. And that, of course, was the last I ever saw of it.
    â€œâ€˜We will drive you home in the wagon,’ said Zenaïda, smiling. I could hear Bastien hitching up the horses outside.
    â€œâ€˜No, thank you,’ said I. ‘It’s not far, only a little way. If you will give me what you owe me I will go.’ I realized that the music had stopped, and a sound of hammering and clattering had taken its place. The carnival was being dismantled. I had been in the wagon for a long time.
    â€œâ€˜We will take you home,’ Zenaïda insisted. ‘It’s almost midnight and we must be on our way anyhow. Where do you live, and what is your father’s name?’
    â€œLike a fool I told her.
    â€œBastien called to the horses, and the wagon began to move; the red lantern swinging in a slow circle overhead.
    â€œI was so busy thinking of my glittering future that it was some time before I realized that we must have left my house far behind. When I began asking frightened questions the gypsy came close to me and grabbed my arm. She told me that I was not going home, but far away, till my father was ready to pay a price to get me back. When I cried and struggled she called Bastien and they bound my wrists and ankles and tied a rag over my mouth. All night I lay on the floor in the dark feeling the wagon lurch and sway, and hearing Zenaïda’s snores and Bastien’s voice swearing at the horses. I was sick with terror.
    â€œI remained with the gypsies for three weeks. The first day Zenaïda unbraided my hair, took away my shoes and stockings, and dressed me in gaudy rags. She pierced my ears for brass earrings, and, stooping down, picked up a handful of earth and rubbed it across my face. ‘There!’ she said. ‘Now even a gypsy would think you were a gypsy!’
    â€œIn spite of her, and in spite of the letter I was forced to write my father during the second week, telling him where to leave the ransom money if he