And he began to sing a captivating air.
"You have gone completely mad, my friend!" said the guard. "Come, speak seriously, what is your decision?"
The Tzigane showed his teeth.
"Are you in a hurry? Come back later, and I will tell you!"
And to the chaos of unfinished images which overwhelmed the Tzigane was added a new idea: how agreeable it would be to be the headsman! He clearly pictured to himself the square black with people, and the scaffold on which he, the Tzigane, walked back and forth, in a red shirt, with axe in hand. The sun illuminates the heads, plays gaily on the axe blade; everything is so joyous, so sumptuous, that even he whose head is to be cut off smiles. Behind the crowd are to be seen the carts and the noses of the horses; the peasants have come to town for the occasion. Still farther away fields. The Tzigane licked his lips, and spat upon the ground. Suddenly it seemed to him that his fur cap had just been pulled down over his mouth; everything became dark; he gasped for breath; and his heart changed into a block of ice, while little shivers ran through his body.
Twice more the chief came back; the Tzigane, showing his teeth again, answered:
"What a hurry you are in! Come back another time!"
Finally, one day, the gaoler cried to him, as he was passing by the window:
"You have lost your chance, my ill-favoured raven. They have found another."
