clapping my hands in time with the others.
The red-faced man now started to dance a very curious sort of dance. As he did, he sang in a clear, penetrating voice:
The men and women were rolling across the floor with laughter. Even the girls and children sleeping in the corner had woken up.
The red-faced man returned to his seat amid tumultuous applause. Now everyone started clapping hands in time.
“Who’s next?”
“Let us have more!”
It seemed they would continue the Song of Bear’s Wood.
The bearded man moved to the centre of the room.
“Yea! It’s me now!”
That alone was enough to set off eddies of laughter.
The bearded man started to dance in a way that differed just slightly from the red-faced man’s effort. In a rich, deep voice he sang:
Well, this was so funny that even I was gripping my belly. The men, and even the women, were bent double with laughter, tears streaming down their cheeks. The children were upturned on the floor, feet shaking uncontrollably in the air. Not only was the song out of tune and utterly nonsensical, but the dance was so completely absurd as to be from another world. Whoever sang or danced it, guffaws of laughter would surely ensue.
With the opening “
“Who’s next? Who’s next?”
At last the laughter died down, and the clapping started again. They all seemed to be in some kind of frenzy. I began to feel carried along with it myself.
A lightly built, affable old man moved to the centre of the room. He resembled the Village Elder, though not such an imposing figure.
Everyone burst into laughter again. The women and children shrieked with merriment as they clapped to the rhythm. The old man must have been particularly popular with them. Baring his gnarled old arms and legs, he danced with great skill and sang in a husky voice:
Some laughed so much they were gasping for breath, clutching their chests. Others were in convulsions, still others had collapsed on the floor. The din was so loud that the house seemed ready to burst. I had tears of mirth in my eyes, and my head was starting to feel numb.
The clapping started again.
“Who’s next, who’s next?!”
“Let us do the whole hog!”
“All do it in turns, all in turns!”
The driver of the train danced out from his place in the corner to the centre of the wooden-floored room. The mere sight of that was so comical that the women were already laughing hysterically. He was obviously an accomplished buffoon. As I reeled with laughter, a thought flitted dimly across the back of my mind. If this funny man were to dance the same dance as the others, I might just die laughing, or failing that, go stark raving mad.
The train driver started to dance, singing in a crazy high-pitched voice:
I was pole-axed, laughing so much I could hardly breathe. Some of the women just couldn’t bear it any longer. They ran across the wooden floor, jumped down to the earthen floor, crossed to the hearthplace and crouched down there for comfort. Next, the young man sitting next to the driver was urged out by the clapping, and moved to the centre with a sheepish look. It really seemed that everyone would have to sing and dance in turn. As I clapped time with the others, I wondered if I would have to join in as well. Because if that were the case, I would be next in line. The young man started to dance, singing in a woeful voice:
By now, they’d repeated the song so many times that even I knew more or less how it went. As long as you started with “
The young man returned to his seat, accompanied by a thunderous ovation. Now they all started clapping the beat again, and smiled over at me. I hesitated for a moment. Perhaps it would seem a bit impertinent of me, a stranger, to sing and dance in front of these people. But they were evidently expecting just that. And besides, I’d been so generously wined and dined. It would have been rude not to dance for them.
As I dithered, the Village Elder, still clapping to the beat, suggested: “Well. P’raps our dance is a bit too hard for the guest.”
That got me up on my feet. “No, no. I’ll do the dance!” I said.
Everyone applauded. “The guest will do the dance!” they exclaimed.
“Good old guest, good old guest!”
Luna and the other women now came closer, and watched with looks of expectation.
This dance was funny, whoever danced it. So the same should be true for me. First, I moved to the middle of the room. Then, after swaying two or three times in rhythm with the clapping, I started to sing the song and dance the dance.
I finished the song, I finished the dance. Laughing aloud at my own foolishness, I waited for the plaudits. And then I noticed.
