It is an utterly mad and impossible tale.

I have only to calmly and scornfully deny it.

And to-morrow, when the glorious sun rises I will be far away.

In Spain, the land of my mother and my grandmother, I go to join our race--to become a dweller in tents--a gypsy, free as the wind that blows.

The gold your lavish hand has given me will make me and my tribe rich for life.