is enough when it's all you need.
There's others as is never satisfied and wants everything, but you've had
the best, and more you needn't want, though there'll be many a man who'll
be in love with you. Ay, indeed, there's fair and dark as will feel the
favor of your beautiful eyes, but little good will it do them, and barons
and lords as would kiss the ground you tread on; and no wonder, either,
for you have the charm which nobody can tell what it is. But it will do
'em no good, nevermore."

"Then I'm never to have another husband," said the widow.

"No, my lady. He that you married was the best of all, and, after him,
you'll never need another; and that was written in your hand when you
were born, and it will be your fate, forever and ever: and that is the
gypsy's production over the future, and what she has producted will come
true. All the stars in the fermentation of heaven can't change it. But
if you ar'n't satisfied, I can set a planet for you, and try the cards,
which comes more expensive, for I never do that under ten shillings."

There was a comparing of notes among the ladies and much laughter, when
it appeared that the priestess of the hidden spell, in her working, had
mixed up the oracles. Jacob had manifestly got Esau's blessing. It was
agreed that the _bonnes fortunes_ should be exchanged, that the shillings
might not be regarded as lost, and all this was explained to the
unmarried lady. She said nothing, but in due time was also _dukkered_ or
fortune-told. With the same mystery she was conducted to the secluded
corner of the hedge, and a very long, low-murmuring colloquy ensued.
What it was we never knew, but the lady had evidently been greatly
impressed and awed. All that she would tell was that she had heard
things that were "very remarkable, which she was sure no person living
could have known," and in fact that she believed in the gypsy, and even
the blunder as to the married lady and the widow, and all my assurances
that chiromancy as popularly practiced was all humbug, made no
impression. There was once "a disciple in Yabneh" who gave a hundred and
fifty reasons to prove that a reptile was no more unclean than any other
animal. But in those days people had not been converted to the law of
turtle soup and the gospel of Saint Terrapin, so the people said it was a
vain thing. And had I given a hundred and fifty reasons to this lady,
they would have all been vain to her, for she wished to