There were those who laughed--Marya Proderenska thought--and there would always be those who laughed, but that did not injure her; for scoffers she felt only a vast contempt. Had she not been shown in a dream that the power was hers? Had not each of her husbands, even the third who had contracted the fever and died with great suddenness in three weeks, admitted to her that she had a power beyond that of any normal woman? It was the power of vision and movement, the power of spell and incantation. The others called it magic, though no gypsy would call it so. Marya Proderenska sat quietly in the back room of the little shop and waited. A woman would come; she knew that, and the knowledge was another piece of her power, and a proof of it. Farther she could not see, but in the cloud of the future the woman was clear. (What power Marya Proderenska had, a blond social worker had, too, and other people; she had never been able to clear her mind of her own superstitions enough to train the power or work very effectively with it. The power was sufficient for her.) Marya Proderenska sighed. The power demanded its own responsibilities. She could not marry outside the clan into which she had been born. She could not be seen on certain days of every month. During those days many foods were forbidden her. Thus the power worked, and thus she lived. The woman would bring money for her, Marya knew. So she sat in the back of the shop and waited, and sighed, until the front door sighed open and Marie Wladek called: "Old woman, old woman!" "Do you call me?" Marya said in her proud baritone. "I call you, I call the gypsy woman." Marya stood up and smoothed her old dress over the big-boned frame all of her husbands had admired. "Then come to me," she called. Marie Wladek crept into the room, her eyes saucers of awe. To speak of witches was all very well, and a fresh-faced girl could give one fright; but here was the authority and power of witchcraft, in this woman with the fuzz of hair on her lip and the great trumpeting voice. "I come for help," Mrs. Wladek said. "I know why you have come," Marya Proderenska said. "You have a great trouble." Mrs. Wladek nodded. "I am bewitched. A witch has placed a hex upon me, and I come to you to remove it." There was a little silence. Then Marya Proderenska said: "The powers will not do work without payment." Mrs. Wladek dug into her ancient beaded purse and found a crumpled dollar bill. She handed it over and the gypsy woman smiled and ducked her head. "It is enough," she said. Mrs. Wladek said: "Then you will help me?" "I will help you," the gypsy woman said. "Tell me of this curse upon you." "There is a voice in my mind," Mrs. Wladek said. "The voice tells me--even now it continues--to go to an employment agency, to accept work ... and the voice is not of my making." "Whose voice is this?" the gypsy woman said.