Romanian Tales

Stan Bolovan

At the edge of the village, where the peasants’ oxen break through the hedges and the neighbors’ hogs wallow in the ground under the fences, there once stood a house. In this house lived a man, and the man had a wife. The wife was miserable all day long.

“What troubles you, dear wife that you sit there so sadly?” her husband asked one day. “You have all you need. So be cheerful, like other folks.”

“Let me alone, and ask no more questions!” replied the wife, and became still more miserable than before.

Her husband questioned her a second time, and received the same reply. But, when he asked again, she told him why.

“Dear me,” she said, “Why do you trouble your head about it? If you know, you’ll be just sad as I am. It’s better for me not to tell you.”

 Stan was now determined to know what was in his wife’s mind.

“If you are determined to hear, I’ll tell you,” said the wife. “There’s no luck in the house, husband,—there’s no luck in the house!”

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