“No, they are not beautiful.” “Say that they are beautiful!” So the cat said, “They are beautiful.” “Cat, O cat, is my fur dishevelled?” “No it is not dishevelled.” “Say, you idiot, that it is dishevelled.” “Well, it is dishevelled.” “Cat, O cat, is my tail raised?” “No, it is not raised.” “Say, you fool, that it is raised.” Then the dog made a dash at a mare, but the mare kicked him back, and the dog died. So the cat said, “Now I can see that his eyes are very red, and his fur is dishevelled, and his tail is raised. Good-bye, brother Dog, I will go home to die.” EGÓRI THE BRAVE AND THE GIPSY In a certain kingdom, in a certain land, there was a gipsy who had a wife and seven children, and he lived so poorly that at last there was nothing in the house to eat or to drink—not even a crust of bread. He was too idle to work, and too much of a coward to thieve. So what could he do? Well, the peasant went on the road and stood pondering. At this time Egóri the Brave was passing by. “Hail!” said the peasant. “Whither are you faring?” “To God.” “Why?” “With a message from men wherewith each man should live, and wherewith each man should busy himself.” “Will you, then, send in a report about me to the Lord?” the peasant said, “what He wishes me to engage in?” “Very well—I will hand in a report,” Egóri said, and he went on his road. So there the peasant stood, waiting for him—waiting. And when at last he saw Egóri on his way back, he asked him at once: “Did you hand in a report about me?” “No,” said Egóri; “I forgot.” So the peasant set out on his road a second time, and he again met Egóri, who was going to God on an errand. So the gipsy asked him once more: “Do please hand in a request on my behalf.” “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.”