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Updated: May 27, 2025
He knew the major and his wife and the two daughters and chummed with his son. And they all loved Ghitza, because he was so strong, so beautiful, and so wise. They never called him "tzigan" because he was fairer than they were. And there was quite a friendship between him and Maria, the smith's daughter. She was glad to talk to him and to listen to his stories when he came to the smithy.
There Senka the Depot was waiting for her a gay fellow with the appearance of a handsome Tzigan; not black but blue-haired; black-eyed, with yellow whites; resolute and daring in his work; the pride of local thieves a great celebrity in their world, the first leader of experience, and a constant, all-night gamester. He stretched out his hand to her, without getting up.
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!
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