ial band of musicians. They were seated on a
large table between two trees, and all around them the village maidens
and the young men, locked arm in arm in one long chain of youth, danced
the Hora, turning round and round.

Ghitza had been away to town, trading. When he came to the inn, the
dance was already on. He was dressed in his best, wearing his new broad,
red silken belt with his snow-white pantaloons and new footgear with
silver bells on the ankles and tips. His shirt was as white and thin as
air. On it the deftest fingers of our tribe had embroidered figures and
flowers. On his head Ghitza wore a high black cap made of finest
Astrakhan fur. And he had on his large ear-rings of white gold. Ghitza
watched the dance for a while. Maria's right arm was locked with the arm
of the smith's helper, and her left with the powerful arm of the mayor's
son. Twice the long chain of dancing youths had gone around, and twice
Ghitza had seen her neck and bare arms, and his blood boiled. When she
passed him the third time, he jumped in, broke the hold between Maria
and the smith's helper, and locked his arm in hers.

Death could not have stopped the dance more suddenly. The musicians
stopped playing. The feet stopped dancing. The arms freed themselves and
hung limply.

The smith's helper faced Ghitza with his arm uplifted.

"You cursed tzigan! You low-born gypsy! How dare you break into our
dance? Our dance!" Other voices said the same.

Everybody expected blows, then knives and blood. But Ghitza just laughed
aloud and they were all calmed. He pinned the smith's helper's arm and
laughed. Then he spoke to the people as follows:

"You can see on my face that I am fairer than any of you. I love Maria,
but I will not renounce the people I am with. I love them. The smith's
helper knows that I could kill him with one blow. But I shall not do it.
I could fight a dozen of you together. You know I can. But I shall not
do it. Instead I shall outdance all of you. Dance each man and woman of
the village until she or he falls tired on the ground. And if I do this
I am as you are, and Maria marries me without word of shame from you."

And as he finished speaking he grasped the smith's helper around the
waist and called to the musicians:

"Play, play."

For a full hour he danced around and around with the man while the
village watched them and called to the white man to hold out. But the
smith's helper was no match for Ghitza. He drag