“Mother, I am going out.”
“Better drive the horses to clover!”
“Know ye not? … ’tis to Simon’s wedding.”
“Praised be to God, ’tis not yours!” she answered bitterly. “—Well, but only get tipsy, and you’ll see what I’ll do to you!” With that threat, she groped her way out to a neighbour’s, while the young man put on all his finery.
“Yes, I will! … I will get tipsy, if only to spite her!” he growled, scurrying fast to Matthew’s cottage, just as they were all setting out for church. But it was a very quiet wedding: neither songs nor shouts nor music. In the church, too, there were only a couple of tapers: Nastka shed many a tear of shame, and Simon shot angry challenging glances round him at the few that were present. Luckily, when it was all over, the organist played them out with such a strain of music as almost set their feet a-dancing, and made their souls within them merry and jocund.
The wedding over, Yagna went back at once to her mother, and only looked in from time to time; Matthew performed on his fiddle, Pete accompanied him on the flute, and another beat the kettledrum for them with fierce energy. They began to dance, even within the little cabin, and so many of the guests as felt inclined tripped it also to and fro outside, amongst the tables that had been set up. There was some eating, some healths drunk and conversation enough. All was quiet, though; for in broad daytime and with unflustered heads, they felt in no mood for noise.
Simon clung close to his wife, taking her into corners and kissing her so violently that they made fun of him; and Ambrose, in a bad temper, grunted:
“Poor fellow! enjoy yourself today; tomorrow you shall have to pay your score.” And as he spoke, his greedy eyes followed the glass as it went round.
There was really no great life in the party; besides, no considerable merrymaking could be expected, since many, having taken a little and sat for some time, as the rules of good breeding demanded, retired to their homes as soon as sundown set the sky on fire. Matthew, however, was very blithe and jolly, playing, singing, pressing girls to dance with him, and passing the vodka round; and when Yagna showed her face, he was her constant companion, ogling her, and talking, and utterly careless of the tears that glistened in Teresa’s eyes.
Yagna, indifferent to the man, had no reason to hold off. She merely listened patiently to him, while on the watch for the coming of the Borynas, whom she wished not to meet. Fortunately they did not come; nor, indeed, did any of the first-class landholders. These, nevertheless, not having refused the invitation, had (as was proper) sent various presents in aid of the wedding-feast. Their absence being remarked upon, Yagustynka made a characteristic reply:
“Had there but been dainties in plenty, and a cabin all reeking with vodka, there would have been no keeping them out, even with a stick! But dry tongues and empty paunches please them not.”
She was by this time somewhat elevated and mischievous: so, having noticed Yasyek Topsy-turvy sitting in a corner by himself, sighing miserably, wiping his nose, and eyeing Nastka from a distance, she drew him out to address her and so make sport.
“Dance with her, and take what may be had! Your mother would not let you marry her; but frisk around her now she has a goodman, and she may requite your love!”
Then she poured forth such talk as made the ears tingle; and when Ambrose, having got enough to drink by now, began to wag his tongue likewise, they set the ball rolling together, and made everybody shake with mirth, till the short summer night, spent in fun and frolic, came unexpectedly to an end.
And now no one remained but the family (and Ambrose, bent on draining the very last drop left in the bottles). The young couple decided to start at once for their new home. Matthew wished them to stay a little longer; but Simon, who had borrowed a horse and cart of Klemba, would not hear of it. So he bundled lockers and vessels and bedding into the cart, seated Nastka in state on the top, knelt down for her mother’s blessing, and, with a kiss for his brother-in-law and a profound salute to the others, crossed himself, whipped up the horse, and started off: the whole family accompanying him.
They walked on in silence, till, close to the mill, a couple of storks were seen circling high in air above their heads. The old dame clapped her hands at the sight, and said:
“Knock on wood! Here’s the best foreboding for you, and ye shall have children in plenty!”
Nastka, reddened slightly; but Simon, who was pushing behind the cart, whistled jauntily, and threw exultant glances around him.
When at last they were alone, Nastka, looking at her new home, burst into tears at the sorry sight. But Simon cried:
“No crying, silly! Other folk have still less: they are envying you!”
He was very much worn out, and somewhat in his cups. So he flung himself down on some straw in a corner, and was soon snoring loud … while she, sitting near the window and looking down at the white cottages of Lipka, went on shedding tears.
This melancholy state of mind did not, however, last very long. All the village folk seemed to have plotted together to come to her aid. Klemba’s wife came first, with a hen under her arm, and a brood of little chickens in a basket. It was a good beginning; and almost daily one of the goodwives looked in, and never a one of them empty-handed.
Their kindness touched her heart.
“Dear people,” she said, “how can I ever repay you?”
“A word of hearty thanks will do,” replied Sikora’s wife, who had brought her a piece of linen cloth.
“When ye are at your
