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“All right,” said Egóri. And he forgot again.

And so once more the peasant set out on the road, and once more met Egóri. And he asked him for the third time: “Do please speak on my behalf to God!”

“Yes—all right!”

“Will you forget again?”

“No, I shall not forget this time.”

Only the gipsy did not believe him. “Give me,” he said, “your golden stirrup. I will keep it until you come back; otherwise, you may once more forget.”

Egóri untied his golden stirrup, gave it to the gipsy, and rode on farther with a single stirrup. Then he reached God, and he began to ask wherewith each man should live, and wherewith each man should busy himself. In each case he received the right order, and he was starting back. But as soon as ever he mounted, he glanced down at the stirrup and recollected the gipsy. So he ran back to see God and said: “Oh, I forgot. Whilst I was coming here I met a gipsy on the way, and he asked me what he should do.” “Oh, tell the gipsy,” the Lord said, “that his trade is from whomsoever he take and steal, he, then, shall cheat and perjure himself.”