Defenders of Democracy Part 27

The groom felt embarra.s.sed and did not know what to do. He bowed apologetically before his bride and tried to please her in every possible way. He imitated her gestures and manners, her shrugs and voice. He even kept his hands on his breast, as was Liza's manner. Finally the bride asked whether there was any entertainment prepared as she had asked. The groom gave the inn-keeper a hint and the latter said that he would do his best. The three musicians were already concealed with their instruments in a big barrel and the imposing organist began his function. Strains of an unique music issued from the decorated music-box. Everybody at once rushed into the room. All stared amazed at the strange contrivance which played at one and the same time concertina, violin and drum. It was like a miracle, gripping and inspiring.

"I bet you this would interest your American audiences," remarked the inn-keeper to the bride.

"It beats the Coney Island noise," stammered Liza, and took up the conversation with a village woman.

All the house now was jollity. The room was bursting of the powerful music, the laughter and the loud conversation of the guests. How it happened no one knows, but one of the women had placed a bowl with hot punch on the music box. Whether through an accident, or the excitement of the organist, the vessel broke, and the punch leaked through the cracks and holes into the instrument. Suddenly the music stopped, although the conductor was still industriously turning the lever. Then were heard mysterious voices and sounds as if of m.u.f.fled exclamations. Everybody looked at the music-box, which began to quake and tremble as if a ghost were within. Then arose fierce yells and agonizing cries, mixed with loud curses.

Before anybody could realize what had happened, three angry musicians leaped from the music instrument, the steaming punch dropping from their heads.

"Good Lord, what's this?" gasped the men while the women shrieked and fled. One of the musicians put his fist under the frightened organist and shouted:

"I'll pay for this joke, you scoundrel!"

"s.e.m.e.n, don't be a fool. I didn't do it. By Jove, I didn't do it," exclaimed apologetically the organist, trembling.

"d.a.m.n, who did it?" asked the groom excited.

No one replied. And when the people realized what had happened, everybody roared. No one who glanced at the overturned music instrument and at the musicians, with their punch-dropping heads could restrain their laughter. Even the pompous bride found it so funny that she laughed with the rest.

When the excitement was over and the dessert was ready the wedding guests once more took their seats at the table. The inn-keeper, thinking that this was the moment to settle the matter of dowry, before the actual marriage act could be performed by the priest, knocked on the table for quiet. Then he arose, wiped his beard and began:

"Friends, this is a very unusual ceremony, our best known citizen and friend Petka, marrying a girl from America. Petka loves Liza, it is all right. But I know and so all our guests know, that Petka expected the bride to bring a fat dowry. Now we all would like to see the bride place her dowry upon the table before she is declared the wife of our friend, Petka. We think that in justice to the guests she ought to do that, because it was understood that she bring the money and we give her the husband. Don't you think, friends and guests, that I am right?"

Everybody shouted "Bravo, inn-keeper," only the groom and the bride sat silent with downcast eyes. Finally the bride glanced at Petka, pulled a bag from her dress, opened it and laid a bunch of green bills on the table. All eyes stared in awe at the money, and the guests were so silent that one could hear the beating of their hearts. Only the purring of the cats, looking curiously down from the big stove, was to be heard.

"Here is the dowry, right here. It is in American money, one thousand dollars, which is equal to two thousand rubles in your money. It's all in cash," exclaimed the bride proudly.

The inn-keeper took the bills, looked at them curiously, turned them over and over and shook his head. The blacksmith took one bill after the other, and did the same. For several minutes everybody was quiet. The "organist" who sat next to the inn-keeper, took the money, looked at it still more closely and then smelled it.

Taking one of the bills in his hand, he rose and showed it to all the guests and asked:

"Friends, have you ever seen this kind of money?"

"No," was the unanimous reply of the guests.

"Can any one here read American?" asked the blacksmith.

No one replied.

"The money is all right. I rushed to reach the train so I had no time to exchange it into your rubles," replied the bride.

"It might be all right," replied the inn-keeper, "but what do we know about the American money and its value? I've been told many stories of American girls boasting they have money enough to buy their husband, but heaven knows. It's a country too far away and a language too complicated for us to understand. We like to have our stuff on the table before everything is all right."

The bride glanced at the groom. The groom took silently her hand, a.s.suring her that he cared nothing for what her dowry was worth, if he had only her as his wife.

"What nonsense! I came on Petka's invitation, and I'll stay with him, do you let the priest marry us or not. We can go both to America and marry there, but never here," exclaimed the bride, tossing her head and snorting her indignation. As she rose, she took Petka by his hand and gave this parting thrust:

"Do you want or not, but I'll stay with Petka here. We don't care for your priest. I keep the American law and know what's what."

"Liza, Liza, listen. Don't make a scandal like that here. Let's better harness our horses and get to the priest as fast as we can,"

shouted the excited guests, all following the couple.

[signed]Ivan Narodny

The Insane Priest

A priest insane went many days without repose or sleep, "My visions are a shadow world but love is real and deep."

He, like a prophet, staff in hand, sought out a distant shrine.

"As sacred ash are all my dreams, and fateful love is mine."

Long, long he knelt and prayed alone, his tears fell unrestrained.

"My visions are the snow-crowned heights, my love the flood unchained."

A sacrifice he laid upon that altar far away.

"My visions are a dream of dawn, my love the radiant day."

A knife he thrust into his heart, to seal the holy rite.

"My visions all resplendent glow, my love is like the night."

And on the altar falling p.r.o.ne, he then gave up his soul.

"My visions are the lightning's flash, my love the thunder's roll."

Upon the altar poured his blood, it formed a crimson pall.

"As his deliriums are my dreams, as death my love my all."

Sergey Makowsky Translation by Constance Purdy

Note: To this poem Mr. Reinhold Gliere has composed a magnificent musical setting with piano and orchestra accompaniment and dedicated it to a prominent Russian revolutionist.

Without a Country

One thought awakes us early in the morning, One thought follows us the whole day long, One thought stabs at night our breast: Is my father suffering?

One sorrow awakes us at dawn like an executioner, One sorrow is persecuting us ceaselessly, One sorrow is swelling our breast the whole night long: Is my mother alive?

A longing awakes us at daybreak, A longing is continually hidden in our heart, A longing is burning at night in our breast; What of my wife?

A fear awakes us early like a funeral ma.s.s, A fear persecutes us and darkens our eyes, A fear fills at night our breast with hatred: Our sisters are threatened with shame.

A pain awakens us in the morning like a trumpet, With pain is filled every gla.s.s we drink With pain is secretly weeping our breast: Where are our children?

...Only one way will give an answer: Through a river of blood and over a bridge of dead!