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“Well, give it me if you have brought it.” So the gipsy took the five hundred roubles, and gave the man a glass of wine, and then another, until the man had his fill.

And when he had had his fill the groom began to make his way home, and said to the peasant: “Now give me the golden stirrup.”

“What?”

“Yes—the stirrup which you sold my master.”

“What, I sold it! I never had a golden stirrup!”

“Well, then, give me the money back.”

“What money?”

“But I just gave you five hundred roubles!”

“I have not even seen a grívennik^[6]—never in my life! I looked after you kindly, simply for the sake of our Lord, and not in the least in order to get any money out of you.” And in this manner the gipsy had disavowed everything.

When the master had heard of this, he instantly started out to see the gipsy. “What on earth do you mean, you vile thief, by taking money and not giving up the golden stirrup?”

“What golden stirrup? Now do, my lord, think a little. How is it possible for a grey, hoary old peasant like me to possess a golden stirrup?”