"I am a Gypsy," the king said to her, "in this place I have grown tired of my life. You, who are unlearned yet wise. You, who are very poor, yet possess a clear and sharp mind. Who have nothing, yet possess spirit and heart. Tell me if you know something important that can awaken my soul. Something that is truly beautiful, without its beauty being scandalous. Something that carries the secret fragrance of virtue, without the usual foolishness of teaching. Something that is truly wise and simple, yet not wrapped in the flashy rags of science and philosophy. Something that is delightful like a new girlfriend but not tiresome like a wife. Nor, of course, chilling like a mother-in-law. Something that intoxicates you like old pure wine without clouding your mind. Something that pleases the rich as well as the poor, the honest as well as the tricksters. Something that does not trouble the king and the government. Nor stir the people into unrest. Something that fascinates. That lulls babies in their grandmother's lap. That pleases boys as much as girls. That is listened to with equal pleasure by men and women, the educated and the wise as well as the uneducated and illiterates, the dreamers. Something for which housewives abandon their work halfway. That makes girls forget their churn at the fountain. That makes them forget their bread in the oven. That lets their food burn on the fire. Something that enchants the old men and women. That can be heard with the same carefree joy both at night and during the day."
Then everyone around fell silent. They held their breath. They marveled at the wisdom of the king. But within themselves, they thought: "The king is asking for something, something that does not exist!"
The old Gypsy Tamara smiled. "I understand," she said, "king, what you seek, you seek, my beloved master, is for me to tell you beautiful tales."