from a cloudy morning she foretold a bad day. But Zoza meanwhile began to enchant all around her with the sweetness of her words, relating her sorrows from first to last, and beginning with her natural melancholy,—the unhappy augury of all she had to suffer; bearing from the cradle the bitter root of her misfortunes, which on account of a forced laugh had forced her to shed so many tears. Then she went on to tell of the old woman's curse, her painful wanderings, her arrival at the fountain, her bitter weeping, and the treacherous sleep which had been the cause of her ruin.
The Slave, hearing Zoza tell the story in all its breadth and length, and seeing the boat going out of its course, exclaimed, "Be quiet, and hold your tongue! or little Georgy shall not be born alive." But Taddeo, who had discovered how matters stood, could no longer contain himself; so stripping off the mask and throwing the saddle on the ground, he exclaimed, "Let her tell her story to the end, and have done with this nonsense about little George or big George; for I have been made a fool of long enough; and if the mustard gets up into my nose, better that you had never been born!” Then he commanded Zoza to continue her story, in spite of his wife; and Zoza, who had only waited for the sign, went on to tell how the Slave had found the pitcher, and had treacherously robbed her of her good fortune. And thereupon
