The sun has long risen from behind the mountains. The forest lit up with a warm light. In the gypsy village, the voices of children playing and running were heard again. The women fidgeted about while preparing food or hanging laundry, talking to each other in ringing voices in the gypsy language.

Danto, as the heir of the baron, who in the future will receive the rights to rule this camp, sat on a log near his hut and twirled a strand of his curly hair on his fingers, watching all the inhabitants of this small camp from the side.

How funny... Danto said quietly, smiling a little.

Danto's thoughts were not here at all. His thoughts were in distant lands, in the brightest fairy tales and the spirit of freedom. In the crusades, brave knights, beautiful kings and queens... In the colored circus tent after all. But his face only showed his sad smile.