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So Egóri went and mounted his horse, came up to the gipsy, and told him: “I shall now tell you the truth. If you had not taken the stirrup, I should have forgotten all about it.”

“I thought as much,” said the gipsy. “Now, for all eternity, you cannot forget me if you only look down at your stirrup, and I shall be always in your mind. Well, what did the Lord say to you?”

“Oh, He told me from whomsoever you take or steal you will cheat and perjure yourself; that will be your trade.”

“Thank you very much,” said the gipsy, and he bowed down to the ground, and went home.

“Where are you going?” said Egóri. “Give me my golden stirrup!”

“What stirrup?”

“Didn’t you take one from me?”

“How in the world could I take one from you? This is the first time I have seen you, and I have not even had a stirrup. Before God!—I never have!” And so the gipsy perjured himself.

What could he do? He could struggle and fight it out, Egóri could, and so he did; but it was all no good. It is perfectly true, and the gipsy spoke the truth: “If I had not given him the stirrup!—if I had not only known him! Now I shall forget him no more.”