The Opelousas courier., 1889-04-13
FOR A ZWANZIG.
The Poor Blind Minstrel's Deed Of
Violence.

olxty years ago, says The servian.
a silver piece of money known in Ser
via as a zwanzig was worth fully six
guldens 1.-TWO dollars and a half of our
present currency, for then we had
neither railways, nor steamboats,, nor
hotels with German landlords. nor
theaters, nor gas. Indeed, we hardly
knew what roads were. On the mill.
tary frontiers, where the soil is not at
all fertile. money was so rare that it
might have passed for a chimera of
the imagination, as in the opera of
Robert te Dtobte. Even in our time, all
along the banks of the Save, we trade
more by exchanging articles than in
any other way. A peasant woman. for
example, who wants to buy a silk
handkerchief or any thing of that kind,
never thinks of giving money for it.
She will pay the merchant witt a
basket OF fruit or eggs. Or some other
article OF country produce.
Now sixty years ago even a small
piece OF money was a great treasure.
And it was for the sake of q zwanzie
that the old blind minstrel Mirko be-
came an assassin and was hung.
Nevertheless the poor old man was
not bad or cruel atyheart; he had al
ready endured several cold winters
with no covering but a ragged cloak;
but alas! the rags fell at last quite to
shreds, and it vas absolutely neces-
sary to procure another cloak Tor the
coming winter if he wished to avoid
dying of cold.
u 1t was at this time that the old min
strel first dreamed-and an insensible
dream it was-of possessing for once
in his life azwanzig, in order that with
it he might buy himself q cloak.
T. Whenever he earned a f8W kreutzers
he usually spent them in having his
opaulsc (shoes) mended, OF else his
hat, which was terribly battered by
wind and rain. 1t was only rarely
that he had the pleasure of iingllng
some copper kreutzers in his pocket,
for the peasants usually paid him for
his music by a handful or two of corn
or wheat or some bread, and a few OF
the more generous by giving him some
lard. Now even in Servia sixty years
ago lard could bf sold for money.
The poor old man suddenly re-
fected that if he put all his
lard aside and saved it. he might, if he
had enough. go some day to the town
and sell his lard for a zwanzig. "Of
what use is il" said he to himself, ''to
comfort my stomach with lardif In
the winter I must die of the cold?"
When the autumn came Mirko tied
his provision of lard in the pocket OF
his torba, and hired a little girl to lead
him by the hand to the nearest town.
The old minstrel was as happy as a
| child at the thought of returning with
o zwanzig clasped III his hand. The
pretty silver piece assAmed in his inn,
agination the really grandiose proper.
tions OF a golden ducat. The zwanzie
was for him the alpha and omegs o.
wealth; he wished for nothing beyoIa5;
and though 10 his songs he frequentl..
chanted the glories of heroes who re
| posed upon golden couches and threw
! ducats about like water, his owr
dreams were limited to the new
dalmotique which he hoped to buy
He felt in Imagination the comfort o.
the thick folds over his back ano
shoulders, and he laughed in his hear
at the thought of rain or snow.
"Are we very far from the town.
he asked the little girl every moment
They were within sight of the church
spire when they met young man, Wnt
Asked where they were going at ucn {
pace.
II am going to sell the provision 0
lard that I have here said the bllnt
mar, showing his torba, the pocket 0
which was stuffed to bursting and tles
with Irvine.
The little girl carried also SON
niecns of lard in a basket.
How much do you want for you
lardPn said the young man
"A zwanzig!" replied the old7nan Il
a voice which trembled with emotion
st is a large sum. Show me tn
lard"
The blind man united it.
4.You will never sell it for that il
the market" said the young man, a
- 4Io haarat the little OIL